Wild Hunt
by Shadoobie
Summary: **From the Lunacy AU** All Pyrrha Nikos wanted was as normal a life as a werewolf could have. But, in spite of how hard she tries, the powers that be have other ideas. Includes multiple OCs (Rated for violence, language, adult content) (Arkos, Bees Schnees,)
1. Prologue

**Wild Hunt**

 **Prologue**

Strangely pale, almost ethereal sunlight filters through the heavy iron grate that makes up the ceiling of the desolate room. Several strings of heavy, rough metal chains hang from the bars, some slackened and barely moving by a missable current of air, while one set of links is taught and rigid with weight. Below, in torchlight and shadows, a woman is restrained with her hands kept painfully high above her head. Her wrists are bloodied and bruised from hours of resistance, and blistered from the reaction of iron to her bare skin. Sweat rolls down her pale, bare body, droplets stinging other sores and bar-shaped blemishes that almost form a pattern.

Across from her is another woman, this one much smaller in stature. Her bi-colored hair matches her bi-colored eyes and is kept in a high ponytail, not wanting to muss it while she works, no doubt. She grins sinisterly, rolling a seemingly plain looking iron spoke along her fingers. She's looking the other, older woman over, curious and contemplating. Then she half turns to look behind her, to the space between a pair of torches where a third woman waits, propped against the hewn stone wall.

Bold, burning amber eyes flicker from the dull shadows between the flames, and they gaze unyieldingly at the helpless woman; a Witch, she reminds herself. Her chest expands and contracts lazily, inhaling and exhaling through her nose in a way that sounds like a tired sigh. "Still nothing to say?"

The Witch is silent.

"You know she can do this all day?" those amber eyes flit towards the much smaller woman. "She actually enjoys it, so it isn't like you can wait for her to tire out."

There's a jerk of shaky movement, and the Witch lifts her head. Between matted strands of ghostly white hair is the weary but defiant shimmer of naturally red irises.

"Where is the Cornerstone, Salem?"

Still silent.

"Where is the Scribe?"

A loud pop of a swallow. "I. _Don't_. Know."

The amber eyes roll, exasperated, and the woman comes away from the wall and steps into the pale light. "All that work just to tell me what I don't want to hear," she shakes her head, rich, dark hair gently tossing about her shoulders. "Worst part is I know you're not lying." She eyes the sigil on the floor. "However," as she passes the smaller woman she takes the iron spoke into her own hand, starts to roll it in her fingers too. "All that means is that I'm asking the wrong questions."

Salem's hands clench into fists overhead, her eyes fixed anxiously on the bit of metal, her mind already feeling the burn of it though it has yet to touch her. She knows it's coming. She'll flinch when it comes near her face, an almost body-wide jerk that makes the dark-haired woman laugh. Her breath smells of ash and brimstone. The iron crosses Salem's forehead, pushing her messy hair from her face and leaving a raw, bright red stripe in its wake. Salem shivers in pain.

"So let me ask you something you _do_ know. Or, at the very least, you should."

Salem bites her lips, her entire face scrunching up as the iron spoke is pressed slow and heavy into her bare stomach, the burning sensation mounting higher and higher until she knows its glowing white as it blackens her skin. She breaks into a fresh sweat and shakes.

"Tell me where I can find an Oracle." and when Salem doesn't answer quickly enough, she just adds to the pressure behind her clenched fist, leaning in and pressing her cool forehead to the Witch's wet and heated one. "Surely you know _one._ Some of you broom-riders carry them around in your _purse_ , for gods' sakes."

Salem whimpers, trying to focus and breathe and not scream.

"Come on," she goads softly, twisting the spoke, the Witch half buckling because she can't drop to her knees.

Salem tastes the acrid shock of blood in her mouth, her lips throbbing under the cut of her teeth. Now she's shaking so hard the links of iron rattle above her. There's the faint hiss of cooking flesh. She shakes her head, defiant though wordless.

"Just a name, that's all I need." Now she's twisting it back and forth, grinding it in until she's fairly certain she feels the firm resistance of bone somewhere.

Still trembling, Salem slumps against her, her forehead slipping to the other woman's shoulder as a muffled scream grinds its way out of her chest.

"This is only going to get worse, I can assure you, so just tell me." and she smiles, golden eyes glowing, as the Witch sobs against her.

"Y-you...you're going to fail. You'll be destroyed if you pursue this."

"That's not up to you," she chuckles softly, "you're not that kind of Witch. _Now give me a name_."

"You won't...be banished back to that-" another scream reigned in behind her teeth and painfully tight jaw, "th-that hellscape you came from. You...will _cease_. _To be_."

"If I fail, then I might as well." Her grin cuts wider, showing fangs. "This is the _last_ time I will ask _nicely_." She pushes a little harder, something giving beneath her grip, and then she can smell flesh and blood burning. "A _name_ , please."

Salem is only able to hold out for another moment, all the while squirming and sobbing at the wretched pain of hot iron in her stomach. Finally she sputters, half choking. "Scarletina," she heaves jaggedly, "S-Scarletina."

Relenting, the golden eyed creature under the guise of a woman pulls back and sighs in contentment. "Thank you." She turns away, handing the bit of metal back to her accomplice as she passes. "Give her a moment to catch her breath, then, by all means, do as you please. I have work to do."

" _The Wild Hunt will find you, Cinder_!" Salem cries, pulling against her restraints like it's a last, desperate effort.

"They will certainly try."

 _(II)_

Jaune and Pyrrha sit across from each other at the table, mostly quiet as she watches him scarf down his breakfast -he needs to hurry or he'll be late for work. Pyrrha knows staring is rude, but she can't help herself. She's found herself staring a lot lately, actually, staring and thinking about notions that have been tickling her mind for over a week now. She wonders whether or not she should talk to him about them. She decides again not to, instead touching his foot with hers and rubbing them together beneath table. With stuffed cheeks he raises his eyes and smiles at her, returning the gesture gently as he's wearing boots and she's barefooted.

His eyes flit down for a brief second, then he swallows. "You okay? You're not eating."

"Hm? Oh," she laughs to herself, "I'm fine. Just distracted I guess." Then she finally picks up her fork and uses it, pushing a clump of scrambled egg around her plate before scooping it up.

"Are you worried about your last turning? I mean...it's been a little weird for a while."

"Not really, no. Mother says it can change over time." she feels a little flutter in her chest as she comes up with a white lie. "Maybe it means I'm close to being able to control it."

"Wouldn't that be something?" he gives his wife a particular grin and then goes back to the last of his food. In the next moment he stands up and carries his soiled dishes to the sink, rinsing them off before coming back to the table. "But you're sure you're okay? I can stay home if you need me,"

"I'll be fine, I promise. Now give me a kiss." She gently demands, lifting her chin in preparation for his swift response. She cups the back of his neck with one hand to hold him there for an extended few seconds, just to get the scent and taste of him fresh in her head, and then releases him. Jaune gives her one last peck on the forehead before heading out of the kitchen towards the front door. Pyrrha listens for the bright jingle of keys and then the door opening and closing, then breathes a sigh of some sort of relief when she hears his truck rumble to life and start down the gravel path towards the main road.

Pyrrha never liked being home by herself, doubly so since she and Jaune married and became proper mates. It left her anxious and feeling exposed, but it's a little different today; today it's the anxiety of possibly keeping a secret. After a moment she shakes her head and pushes the jitters down, finishing her food before hurrying upstairs to prep herself for the day. Dressed and groomed and jittery all over again she comes back downstairs, taking enough time to write and pin a short note on the refrigerator for Ren and Nora should they get home before she does. As she sticks the note to the appliance she hears the dull roar of an engine in the driveway, a bigger engine than the one in Jaune's little truck.

Heading out the front door she sees the sunlight glinting off the massive, silver SUV sitting on the patch of gravel in front of the house. Pyrrha quickly locks the door and starts towards the vehicle, the driver offering the courtesy of reaching across the front seat and opening the passenger door for her. She has to use the oh-crap-strap over the door to pull herself into the seat.

"Thanks for coming to pick me up, Billy."

"Of course." the response is a smooth grunt as the tall, stocky Bison Faunus adjusts their posture. They push their sleeves a little higher, showing off more of the nests of tattoos on their meaty forearms before putting the car in gear and starting to back up. "Seat belt."

"Oh, right." she chuckles and fumbles with the strap, eventually pulling it across her lap and chest to click into place. "So how have you been?"

There's a little jerk as the gears shift again and Billy hits the gas. "Alright, I guess, not too busy. Tag and I have been getting more time together."

"Ooh, I bet _she's_ happy about that."

"So am I." they chuckle, a smooth, low registered sound. "I'm really thinking about asking her to marry me."

"You should." no hesitation. She had known Billy for years, they had been her Handler when she first moved to Vale, and she knew damn good and well how much they fancied the Gatekeeper they often shadowed during their primary work as a Shaman. "I bet she'd say yes."

"I feel the same, honestly, it just hasn't felt like the right time. If that makes any sense." they pause the car just at the edge of the highway, taking the time to look both ways and prod the spring-mounted buffalo fetish glued to the dashboard before starting down the main road.

"Jaune said the same thing, sort of." she remembers that impromptu, almost inappropriate proposal; naked and worried, not even really a question. "He didn't know how to ask."

"Sounds silly. Just ask."

"Could say the same about you." she grins and side-eyes them, to which she only receives a snort, making her giggle.

"Well, enough about me," they clear their throat, using the press of their large palm to turn the wheel. "How are the two of you doing? Jaune still okay?"

She nods and starts into a cliffs notes update of how the marriage has been and how Jaune still has the mark of a Luck Dragon emblazoned on his shoulder for a still unknown reason. The catching up passes between them for most of the ride, until they get near the heart of Vale proper. It's an area Pyrrha had only been a few times, not nearly often enough to readily know where she is or how far it is to the nearest familiar landmark. Billy, on the other hand, makes this commute, at the very least, every week. The Schnee Cabal is their main contractor and they own a quarter of the city, including the Nicholas Schnee Specialties Clinic where the Shaman parks their vehicle.

"You want me to come in with you?"

"I'm a big girl, I think I can handle it. I don't know how long the appointment will take, though."

"That's okay. Tag likes for me to text her when I'm not busy, so I'll be occupied."

"Alright, tell her I said hello."

"Will do."

Pyrrha can feel the jitters crawling back up from the soles of her feet as she walks into the clinic and up to the reception counter. Her hand shakes as she signs in, and she stutters when she thanks the young lady behind the counter before blushing and going to sit in the lobby. Then she jumps a little bit when the nurse calls on her, apologizing as the young man leads her back into the hallway and to an empty exam room to wait a while longer. When the doctor comes in they exchange the typical pleasantries and questions, then the less than typical ones as the topic leans towards the supernatural. The doctor inquires to Pyrrha's heat cycles and their effects on her husband, and also to the nature of her changes during the full moon, and she just nods as Pyrrha answers and explains it to the older woman's satisfaction. Pyrrha doesn't like that she can't read the doctor's response, but accepts it, just as she accepts and yields to a blood test.

The doctor said the results only take ten minutes, but it feels like an eternity passes between between Pyrrha getting her finger pricked and the older woman telling her that it's positive. Pyrrha's expression stretches, lights up. "It is? Really?"

"Yes, ma'am. Congratulations."

After being told so many times how unlikely it was, that it might even be impossible because Jaune was human...gods above. She takes a breath, a quick one that fills her lungs to capacity as if she means to shout, but she reigns it in at the last second. Her face reddens and she starts to tear up a little, laughing unevenly instead. "W-wow, I...I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll make an appointment to come back and see me in about nine weeks. By then we should be able to see how far along you are and where to go from there."

"Oh, o-okay, of course."

Everything after that is mostly a harried blur of things and noises that she'll only partly remember. The clearest part of the next few hours is how she feels -elated, terrified, a mess of everything really, and that her hands keep touching her belly. She misses most of the conversations she has with anyone, completely forgets about Billy's little worry over Tag never texting them back. She's fairly certain she said something to them in regards to it, but has no way of being sure. Billy will stay when they get back to the house, reminding Pyrrha that she had at some point invited them to.

It's not until Jaune gets home that evening that everything seems to settle back into place. He comes through the door, keys jingling like they had that morning, and Pyrrha all but jumps up from her seat to jog across the living room to greet him. They hug and kiss and exchange a few muffled words, nothing nearly as important as what she tells him next.

"What?" he wasn't sure he heard her correctly, never mind how they're nose to nose. "What did you say?"

She laughs, tearing up again like she had earlier. "I'm pregnant." His eyes are wide and a brighter blue than she's ever seen and she knows he's feeling the same thing she is. "We did it."

"B-but," he pants a little, "everybody told us we might not,"

"But we _did_."

"Oh my god." and he dissolves into a babbling fit of half formed sentences broken up by kisses and laughter and they're both just a mess and don't care that Billy and Ren and Nora are just watching them make a spectacle of themselves. For the Kirin and the Elemental, it's actually quite cute to see them like this.

And they'll remember the moment with a bitter sweetness five weeks later, when Pyrrha miscarries.

 _(III)_

Cinder strides comfortably through a veil of silk curtains into the Oracle's parlor, taking a half interested look around the small room and its brown and bronze finery. Heady incense hangs in the still air though there is no visible smoke, the Oracle's last client likely hours gone now. She recognizes some of the odors, flinches at them as they bristle her supernatural senses and try to force her to remember things she'd sooner not. In front of her is a low laying and round table, a stone bowl full of ashes in the middle of it, surrounded by plump cushions -common furniture for readings of all kinds. Cinder settles down on one, resting on her hip with her elbow on the table. She only has to wait for a few moments, having begun drumming her fingertips with impatience by the time the Oracle arrives.

Oracles are always women, and their abilities tend to favor Faunus blood, meaning that Cinder shows no surprise at the long, auburn rabbit ears that sit atop the young woman's head. She watches her and the Sentinel that lingers just over her shoulder, taking note of the tattoos on the seemingly human woman's face -they look like crosshairs. They briefly whisper to each other before the Sentinel steps out of sight, and then the Oracle sits across from Cinder.

Before a single word passes between them, Cinder passes forward a neat stack of Lien bills, sliding them across the smooth surface of the table and not removing her hand from it until the Oracle means to take it. The Faunus won't count the money, certain it is the proper amount -surely she would know if a potential client would try to stiff her. She just cradles the stack in her palms that rest in her lap.

"So what would you have me look into?" the Faunus has a distinct Managerine accent.

"You don't already know?" Cinder smirks.

The Oracle chuckles, her ears tilting back. "That's not quite how this works."

"I know, but I just had to ask, just this once. Needed a good laugh, you understand." a light exhale. "Tell me where the Cornerstone is, Miss Scarletina."

Velvet straightens, every last trace of the gentle smile wiped clear of her face as her ears sink further back. She blinks once, twice, then she appears to try and respond. She sputters, confusion knitting her tender brow as nothing cohesive forms.

"You can't lie to me." and her smirk cuts into a full smile, those telling fangs of hers exposed. She had put sigils on several of the bills, hedging her bets against half truths and open ended answers, among other things. "Now, I would like my reading, please."

A certain pallor has come over the Oracle's face, but, ultimately, so does resignation. The old laws demanded she continue; she had accepted payment, so she was obligated to render a service. Resignation is tainted with quiet resentment as Velvet slides the money into a little box under the table, retrieving a purse of incense in the same turn. She places a handful of it into the stone bowl between them.

"Need a light?" Cinder offers, not waiting for an answer as she leans forward and softly snaps her fingers, a spark flying from the point of impact and landing on the incense. Smoke immediately begins to curl and spiral upward.

Glaring at Cinder all the while, Velvet pulls the bowl of embers closer, leaning forward until it's just beneath her so the smoke curls under her chin. Eventually she'll shut her eyes and start breathing in the fumes, deep draws of it disappearing into flared nostrils in rhythmic lungfuls. A dull static begins to crackle in the small space, the air itself seeming to gain some weight as the energy shifts and mounts. Cinder can feel the small hairs on her body starting to bristle, she shivers but subdues any physical reaction to it.

Velvet's ears suddenly lilt forward, move independently of each other in no certain patter for a moment, then prick straight up and stock still. The air shifts again, the static popping, and then the Oracle's eyes open to reveal they've become a solid white. Cinder just smiles and waits. A half hour will pass before the trance ends, Velvet suddenly blinking back into awareness and to the reality of heavy droplets of blood falling from her nose and snuffing the few remaining embers in the bowl. She pants, seemingly exhausted, and softly calls to her Sentinel who is quick to respond. She already has a bottle of water waiting for her charge, handing it over before fussing over the crimson streaks around her mouth. Velvet has to convince her to leave again, assuring her protector that she's more than fine. She obeys, but not before eying Cinder with obvious disapproval and suspicion, to which Cinder just grins like a jackass.

"So what did you see?" Cinder purrs.

"I saw what you're after...and what you've done."

"Oh?" she doesn't appear the least bit worried, just intrigued.

"You murdered Salem Ashita."

"And?"

"And she was right. The Wild Hunt _will_ find you."

"Certainly not through _you_ ," Oracles are sworn to neutrality, after all.

"And so will Salem's sisters."

A little flinch, just barely there at the corner of her mouth. "Just tell me what you saw."

"I saw that silver is your least favorite color."

"Just how lucky are rabbit ears? Are they as good as feet?" Cinder can feel the snap of brimstone in her throat, and she knows the gold of her eyes is beginning to burn as her patience wanes.

Velvet scowls, her ears tilting back, almost out of sight behind her head. Beneath the table she has a hand around each ankle, feeling a thick scar that goes half way around one of them. "I saw the prince in his tower."

"...What? That's all?" Cinder's well acquainted with Oracle's speaking in riddles and twisted truths, but this is borderline ridiculous.

Velvet bites her tongue. Some truth sigils can be tricked by lying through omission, but she finds that she isn't so lucky as a twisting pain starts tightening her chest. A slow forming wince tightens her face before she is compelled to continue. "The prince is in his tower, minding his inheritance. Protecting mother's secret."

For a long, tense moment, Cinder regards the Oracle with seething scrutiny, amber eyes thin and glistening as she thinks. Velvet meets her gaze with a concern that's well hidden, but not completely so. "That's everything I could see about the Cornerstone, I swear."

"I believe you." Cinder's response is almost a hiss. She wants to kill the Faunus for being so damn useless, but knows better. Murdering an Oracle would have the Wild Hunt waiting for her outside.

Then Velvet's eyes sharpen as well, matching her client's. "I also saw your death."

"I didn't ask about that."

"But you like stuff for free, right? I mean, who doesn't?" Velvet smirks now, watching Cinder stand up.

"I won't kill you, but I'll happily cut out your tongue,"

" _Before_ Coco tears you apart? No one's that fast." A light chuckle.

"Then choke on your fortune." Cinder bites, hoping to turn and leave before another word passes between them. Still, she doesn't move fast enough to miss Velvet's warning to watch out for wolves in the future.

 _(IV)_

Pyrrha carefully navigates around the kitchen island while holding the largest coffee mug she had ever seen in both hands, handing it off to Billy once they are within arm's length of each other. They thank her with a nod and a grunt, no eye contact, and she accepts with the same. They're both depressed and, while it's for entirely different reasons, they sought each other out for comfort; a learned behavior from when Billy was her Handler and the newly independent Alpha Female felt touch starved and lonely. The Faunus watches Pyrrha make her own cup of something warm and soothing before she comes to sit beside them. For a while they're alone together, still saying nothing.

Jaune was away attending his aunt's funeral. Pyrrha was surprised to hear the event was for immediate family only, neither she nor any of Jaune's sisters' partners could attend. Though part of her is glad, she wasn't of the mind to see her mother-in-law, much less be surrounded by half-acquaintances and death all day. She hasn't been of the mind for much socialization at all since her miscarriage -a behavior very unusual for a werewolf.

As for Billy, Tag has been officially missing for almost six months and what few leads they had in the search had gone cold. They couldn't stand to be home alone and they needed to be doing something else, ideally getting some much needed sleep. But they settle for this quiet company instead, because sleeping is too much like doing nothing.

There's no knowing for certain how long they're like that before the heavy stillness of the kitchen is broken up by motion at the back door. Ren lets himself in, the lingering shimmers of his glamor just fading as he acknowledges the two other occupants in the space. He and Billy have a quick exchange in a language Pyrrha doesn't understand, whereas she's content to just offer her housemate a weak smile in greeting.

"May I join you?" he asks, his tone naturally soft.

"Of course." Pyrrha tries to sound happy for the extra company, but she knows that he knows she's fibbing her ass off. "There's still hot water for tea if you want."

"Thank you." And as he goes he mentally takes measure of the tension in the room. He is very sensitive to it, his kind is just that way, though he's certain he wouldn't have to be in this case. He doesn't allow himself to make too much noise while he searches for his favorite teacup, and all the while he reaches out with a touch of magic to try and understand what the others are feeling. Billy is more than obvious, they've never hidden from his senses and now is no different. Pyrrha, on the other hand, makes him pause in the middle of pouring water into his cup.

Ren eventually joins them at the island, sitting across from them and briefly mimicking their positions, hunched over his cup with his chin dipped near his chest. When he lifts his head he's looking at Pyrrha, and then it inches left to right, curious in a dog like way, then...

"You're pregnant again."

Pyrrha visibly winces, her brow furrowing. She takes a deep breath and takes a mouthful of coffee to try and suppress the urge to cry. "I...I had a feeling."

"I thought...you and Jaune weren't trying anymore?"

"The condom broke." she laments softly, her head dropping into one palm.

"Have you told him yet?" Billy asks, caution lacing the question.

"No, I've been afraid to. I don't want to get his hopes up...or maybe I think I'll jinx myself."

The other two just nod, knowing something as ridiculous sounding as that is actually more likely than most think.

"You're not going to try and hide it from him, are you?"

"I...I don't know." and she resists another urge, this one to say more, to talk about her suspicions of already having miscarried a second time. She hadn't even felt the change like the first time, but a toilet full of blood is terribly telling for a supernatural that doesn't menstruate like humans.

"...You're debating whether or not to keep it?" Ren queries plainly.

Pyrrha weighs the question, hating the implications behind it almost as much as she hates how easily he asked. Kirin can be that way sometimes, Ren particularly so, but she knows he doesn't mean it in a bad way. He's just...him. "I don't...I'm not sure I could handle that heartbreak again." Because the physical toll of miscarriage is nothing for an Alpha Female, comparatively, but the emotional cost is a whole other matter. "But...I want to be happy. I want _us_ to be _happy_ ,"

"Of course you do, but sometimes you have to settle for less than ideal." Ren's cherry blossom eyes slide to Billy when they grunt in bitter agreement. "You need to draw a line somewhere, isn't that how the saying goes?"

Pyrrha nods, taking another deep breath and another deep drag from her mug. "...This will be the last time. After this...well, we'll see what happens and go from there."

Ren reaches across the varnished wood of the island and slides his hand over hers, trying his best to be reassuring yet uncertain if he's successful.

 _(V)_

Four humanoid figures materialize from a portal of crimson and shadow; two are a woman and a man of comparable build, pitch black hair and haunting red irises that are just visible through the slits in their bone white masks. The features of the other two are completely concealed behind matching masks and heavy cloth hoods. The agents of the Wild Hunt emerge from the aether to a scene of blood and blackened stone, the fleeting stench of scorching stirred by the erratic bursts of air that are common at these heights. Strewn about the floor are the remains of the once robust chamber walls, countless hewn bricks now crushed and fractured and still gently smoking. When they realize that whatever battle had been raging here is long since over, they relax and loosen their grips on their mostly concealed host of weapons.

The woman starts across the floor, removing her mask and tucking it to her side as she scans the platform from one side to the other. She sniffs the air intentionally, trying to learn what she can and couple it with whatever visual evidence she can gather at the moment. Though it would only matter so much once her eyes fell on the body propped against what was left of a wall. It's headless, though it isn't actually missing; the man's head rests between his thighs, his hands neatly folded atop the crown of silvery hair. And beside the posed corpse is the ornate, gilded frame of a great mirror, the obsidian glass shattered much like the stone walls, but in a way that suggests it was blown out from the far side. Which, at a glance, seems impossible since the only thing behind the glass is stone.

She kneels between the corpse's knees, head cocking slowly to the side as she studies the remains a little closer. She sighs.

"It could take _years_ for him to come back from this." Comes a gruff shrug from over her shoulder.

"Years enough for the perpetrator to get away with it." she replies flatly. "Whoever it was knew exactly what they were after _and_ how to get it." Because not just anyone comes here, to this plane of existence and this tower beneath a silver sun, to see this man. Jarreth Ozpin. Oz to his friends, and High Minister to everyone else.

"Raven,"

"If that mirror is broken...that means the Cornerstone is gone." no dismay, no fear, only a scowl compliments her neutral tone. Then her brow furrows a little harder as she notices something. "...They took his glasses."

"What?"

"Unless they're lying around here somewhere." she concludes, looking up at her twin brother with hints of her scowl remaining. "Start looking, Qrow, check _everywhere_ , including the courtyard. Get the locals involved if you have to, whatever it takes. And find a Gatekeeper for this plane so it can be closed off."

He nods. "What about you?"

"I'm going back to Agartha, we need to mobilize the other planes as soon as possible." Raven stands in a graceful snap of motion, half turning to gesture to the other Hunters. They're quick to answer, gathering up Ozpin's remains with as much respect for the dead as they can. "I'll send support for you."

Another curt nod. "Happy hunting, sister."

"Happy hunting." and with a flitting gesture of her hand and portal opens up and she disappears inside.

 _(VI)_

Jaune feels his heart pounding against his ribs and hears the blood in his ears, he's shaking from head to toe with nerves and has been since he got the phone call at work nearly an hour ago. How he had managed to drive here without incident is nothing short of a miracle. His hands all but juggle his keys as a he walks the pavement to the supernatural-friendly hospital entrance, dropping them a few times before resolutely shoving them in his pocket where they belong. Jaune is walking a little too fast, almost smacking right into the automatic doors before they open all the way, and strolls right through the place like he knows exactly where he's going. Which he really doesn't.

"E-excuse me, sir? Sir?"

Jaune's head whips around but his body doesn't follow, but, luckily, he stops before bowling over an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair. "Me?"

"Yes, sir," the receptionist is visibly relieved, "can I help you?"

For a brief second his jaw just hangs and he stares, seemingly lost. Then he blinks and shakes his head, laughing sheepishly to himself. "Oh, yeah, sorry. M-my wife," his hands fumble as he starts towards the reception counter, "baby," he blurts out.

"Name?"

"Nikos. Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos, I mean,"

She's typing away at a terminal and smiles with a knowing nod. "Ah yes, here she is. Come with me, I'll have to escort you."

"Oh, okay."

Jaune's hands still fuss together in front of him, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of him just so he has something to focus on. A question is on repeat in his head; he's wondering why he would need an escort when she could have just given him directions -he's not so blitzed out on nerves that he couldn't do something as simple as that. But then, as the pair of them round a corner, he sees very well the bright neon sheet of paper on the heavy double doors that reads **"No Male/Male identifying persons beyond this point"** in big, bold lettering.

He's stuttering again. "B-but it-,"

"It's fine for you, you're the father."

The word settled in his brain and then dropped into his stomach. _Gods have mercy. **Father**_. He feels a little faint all of a sudden.

The corridor beyond the doors is strangely quiet, most of the doors on either side of it shut with no light coming through the small windows in them. They pass a lone security officer on her rounds before stopping, the receptionist stepping aside as she opens a door and gestures for him to go in. "Congratulations," she says softly before pulling the door closed again.

Inside the amber tinted shadows of the dimly lit room, Jaune finds himself presently stuck where he stands. His hands have stopped fussing, his mind no longer races or cares about the sign outside, and all he can care to acknowledge is his wife's presence. There she is, propped up a little in the bed and only covered to her navel. It's too dark for his human eyes to see the remains of sweat dappling her skin, or for him to see just how messy her hair is. His gaze focuses on her face, how soft it is with sleep, because a part of him is just too shocked and afraid to look at the newborns yet.

 _Twins_. His heart throbs.

Jaune feels himself jump a little as he hears the deep breath Pyrrha takes in through flared nostrils, and again when she looks at him and he sees the flash of eyeshine; her eyes are only like that when it's nearing the full moon. Then ease washes over him in a warm wave when she smiles. "Hey," he exhales quietly, almost too quiet, but he knows she'll still hear him.

"Hello again." she replies, her voice raspy and threaded with exhaustion.

"Sorry I couldn't get here sooner."

"It's all right," she shakes her head slowly, "you probably wouldn't have been let in here anyway." From the moment she had been admitted until after the delivery, it had been Shamans only, a safety measure often observed when werewolves were involved since it wasn't uncommon for them to turn under the physical strain of childbirth. Same reason why it was _persona non grata_ for men; an Alpha Female in labor would instinctively - _aggressively_ \- react to _any_ male that wasn't her mate.

"Oh. Okay. So how are you doing?"

"I was great after the epidural." She laughs, a puff of air between her lips. "But I'll be even better once you're close to me."

Jaune is quick to respond, so quick he almost trips over his own feet in his rush to her side. With a tilt of her head Pyrrha directs him to the far side of the bed, showing him there's plenty of room to join her. Carefully, so carefully, he works himself up, and then inches as close to her as possible. Now he can see just how tired she is, that her eyes are dim with fatigue but full of brilliant color like they are during the lunar cycle. She has the makings of claws and fangs too. She'll press and nuzzle his forehead with hers once he's in reach, taking in his scent and feeling immediate comfort as it fills her head.

"Take your shirt off." and even though she isn't looking at him directly, she knows there's confusion on his face. "Skin contact is important for them right now."

"Oh, okay." He complies, swallowing hard when his nerves start up again. "Do...do you want me to take one?"

Pyrrha smiles and nods, waiting until he opens his arms to her. "I think Rahne is finished nursing." at least she hopes so, her breasts are sore. Pyrrha offers her husband gentle direction as he takes up the infant, marveling at her as he holds her with both hands for a brief moment before laying her against his chest. The baby stirs, grunts, and then settles, her tiny fists closing unconsciously in the curls of soft blond chest hair. Without a second thought Jaune starts to stroke the baby's back, much like he would do for his wife.

"Wow." he breathes, barely a whisper. " _Wow_. And they're both healthy?"

"They are. In fact, Tema is the biggest baby on the hospital's record."

"She takes after her Aunt Nessa." Jaune chuckles, then a little harder, "oh no, she takes after her Aunt Nessa."

"As long as she didn't inherit her appetite, I think we'll be fine." Pyrrha lets her head rest on his shoulder, never mind that it isn't the most comfortable position; she needs his touch just as much as the twins do right now.

Jaune feels a velvety softness under his fingertips, only just now able to acknowledge it as something out of place. "What...is this fur?"

Pyrrha's breath hitches, her brow furrowing for all of a second. "...Yes."

"...That means,"

"They're just like me."

"Well, I figured that out already, I mean they're both redheads." he kisses the top of her head.

"I meant in other ways."

"I know what you meant." another kiss, this one he hopes does something to reassure her. "But you can say it out loud, you know? You can tell me my daughters are werewolves, I'll still love them."

Pyrrha's quiet, not knowing how to respond and much too tired to try and think of something.

"You did it, Pyrrha. We have our own little pack now." Jaune takes a deep breath, seeming to nestle a little deeper into the warm comfort he's found himself surrounded by. "I love you."

"We did it. And I love you too."

Author's Note: I like where this is going so far, and I'm happy to say that this isn't going to be half the monster Embers was. I don't think I have anything like that left in me for the time being, which is far from a complaint. Comments and critiques are more than welcome, and I appreciate you joining me for another heaping helping of arkos. For those of you making your first visit, I highly suggest you take some time to read "Lunacy" which this story is directly tied into. This story comes after the events in that, so it might help some of you with some elements I've presented so far. In any case, hope you enjoy.


	2. Chapter 1

**Wild Hunt**

 **Chapter One**

When she isn't abroad visiting her small assemblage of temples, or enjoying her large collections of paintings and books and baubles, or spending time with her father and sister or covey of lovers, Yang Xiaolong enjoys a good time wherever it hides. Depending on the Luck Dragon's mood, she could be found almost anywhere from formal dinners to sporting events to a concert where the music is loud enough to make a human's ears bleed. Tonight she strolls the streets of downtown Vale proper under an Autumn moon, the supernatural quarter of course, taking in the rich aroma of street food and trying to decide what sort of trouble she feels up for. She gets a bowl of stir fried noodles to help her decide, rubbing a little luck on the vendor to help him meet his bottom line because it's not his fault that folks don't trust Wutai style food from a Vacuo looking man. With her snack consumed and the container in a waste bin, Yang wipes her hands and pauses to look up and down the steadily busier avenue. Nothing in particular piques her interest, so she decides to go with an old standby; nothing beats a night at Junior's. Except maybe a night at the Belladonna residence, but that was for a different breed of fun altogether.

A couple of blocks down she finds the usual line that she never has to wait in, comfortably and confidently making her way to the entrance where by some stroke of luck the guy at the door has her name on the list. She tips him because she can and walks right in. First thing you notice about Junior's is how big the place is on the inside; plenty of room for all the beautiful people that come here to dance and drink and revel. Yang often jokes how this place is like a temple to her all its own, having everything she ever wanted to imbibe in or be surrounded by. As she makes her way smoothly through the crowd she immediately spots several men and women she would love to have a drink or two with, and that just makes her all the more eager to reach the bar, where there just so happens to be an open seat.

"You grace us with your presence, Miss Xiaolong," Junior greets her with a playfully mocking tone from the other side of the counter. "Usual?"

"In a minute, I just want something cold and wet to start off. Street food makes me thirsty." she props herself on her elbows, leaning atop the bar. "Hey...where's the music? Speakers blown again?"

"Nah," Junior passes her a highball glass with ice water and a split strawberry in it. "I've started doing live sets on weekends. So far it's been pretty good, you just popped in during the lull."

"Oh, cool." she downs the drink quickly, almost too quickly as it threatens to give her brain freeze. Luckily it doesn't. "Who's up next?"

The big man's dark brows knit, curious, and he leans over to look beneath the bar. "Cinder Fall."

"Nice stage name." Yang chuckles, dismissive but smiling with the strawberry between her teeth. " _Now_ I'd like my usual, if you please."

"You got it."

While she waits, Yang continues to take stock of the crowd. She can sense the intentions of most of them and had a tendency to be on the lookout for those that felt lonely or uncomfortable in such a stimulating setting. She liked comforting people, making them smile, and if it got her a new friend or partner in the process, it was considered a bonus. But tonight there wasn't much discomfort, which was a small surprise -the exception was a man trying to drink away the depression of his recent divorce, and things like that Yang knew to leave well enough alone.

She'll take the strawberry sunrise that's passed to her, shrugging out of her leather jacket before turning on the stool to face the open floor. While cradling the glass in her hand she leans back against the counter. Yang looks towards the stage where the DJ usually works, finding his table unoccupied and covered in cloth, and now all she can think about is wanting to hear Weiss sing -she hadn't spent enough time with her lately and is suddenly missing her.

Her drink is almost to her lips with the lights dim and the spotlight shutters to life on the stage. The edge of the glass will continue to hover just out of reach as, Yang can only assume, Cinder Fall seems to stalk into view. She emerges into the staggering light wearing a dark crimson dress that looks like it's poured on, her pale shoulders and collar mostly bare, save for her lush, dark brown hair on the left side that curls like a cat's tail. Now she's thinking of her other lover, Blake, doubly so when she focuses on the unfamiliar woman's burning amber eyes. Yang has no idea that her mouth is still hanging open.

Junior knew she would react like this, and smiles to himself as he watches her and pours another patron's drink. He knew it from the moment he saw Cinder that Yang would be all but stupid at the sight of her. Luck Dragons have an affinity for pretty things, especially golden ones like the Xiaolongs. "You're gonna catch flies if you let your jaw hang like that much longer."

Yang quickly puts the drink to her lips, trying to recover the few seconds she thought she lost -it was really almost a minute. When she swallows she sputters and half turns towards him. "Where the hell did you find _her_?"

"She's been here only a couple times before, never talked to her until she signed up for tonight. Don't know where she's from or any of that."

Yang shakes her head and takes another drink, suppressing a laugh. "If this is some ploy to make me spend more money in here, it's working."

Junior grins. "I don't know what you're talking about." And his grin widens when he loses Yang again, Cinder having started to sing. Through the whole performance he's watching her, shaking his head as she appears helplessly drawn to the woman on stage, not even coherent enough to realize she's just holding her drink near her mouth again. When she does appear to try and take another drink, all she does is press her thumb between her teeth.

"I know this song." she says finally, dreamily.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." half a nod, the slightest drop of her chin. "My...mom sang it." But she thinks more of the song -and her step-mother- than her absentee parent, remembering how particular she is about how it sounds and how the words are articulated. It was written in a long since dead language, and Yang could only stand to hear it a certain way; it was meant to convey a haunting heaviness, and this Cinder woman had it down to an art. "She a siren or something?"

"You know I can't tell you." Charms on the bar kept him from exposing his supernatural customers, kept them from exposing each other, and that's coupled with a powerful boon to any glamors in place when anyone walks in. Still, whatever she is, he doesn't know anyway. "But that's as good a guess as any."

"Gods have mercy on me." because she knows she's in trouble.

"You gonna buy her a drink?"

"I'll buy her anything she wants if she asks me nicely."

"You're a mess." and they laugh together, both nodding in agreement. "You want another?"

"Yeah, gettin' real thirsty now." Yang hadn't even realized her glass was bone dry. Then she sighs again. "Gods have mercy." Yang takes her next drink much more slowly, savoring it, letting herself get lost in the music. She turns herself to face Junior after a moment, sensing a tempting and thrilling risk in looking directly at the woman on stage. Like Medusa, she muses briefly. But if the Gorgon is that pretty, would death be so bad?

When the music stops Yang feels a hard shiver up her back, going deeper still to rattle the gilded scales that hide beneath her human disguise like the remaining cubes of ice in her glass.

Junior gives her a knowing side eye. "Want me to bring her over?"

"I don't think I'm ready to owe you that big of a favor." she chuckles.

"Promise I won't ask for much." he grins and winks and starts down the length of the bar, heading for the small swinging door at the far end.

It only takes perhaps half a minute to return, Yang watching him from the corner of her eye and noticing his hand gesture in her general direction. Like a candle in a dark room she spots the woman in the red dress and unconsciously tracks her, more mentally than visually, as she contemplates whether or not she really needs another drink. When they're finally face to face, Junior exchanging names for them, Yang knows she's looking at trouble, but all she can do is grin and kiss Cinder's knuckle when she offers her hand.

"I really enjoyed your performance."

"So Junior tells me," Cinder smiles, the expression warm and velvety like her eyes, "he says you were drooling the entire time."

"Thankfully I had enough class to drool in my drink." and she feels so much better about her nerves when Cinder laughs.

"What are you having? I'll happily buy you another." Cinder offers as she slides onto the empty stool, still facing Yang.

"Now I'll hear none of that; after a show like that, let me treat you. Whatever you want."

"Nice to meet a fan." A smooth chuckle. "How about a few shots and we see where that takes us?"

Something in the back of Yang's mind is telling her this is too easy, too good to be true. A suspicion that whatever Cinder is knows exactly what she's looking at and is looking to score. But the notion is too tiny a whimper to be heard over the giddiness and excitement. "Sounds like fun, you pick the first round."

"You like fireball?"

"You cut me in the right place and I _bleed_ it. Junior, if you would be so kind?" Yang grins like a cat in the cream when he puts two small glasses and an unopened bottle on the counter between them, knowing he means to leave them to their own mischief. Yang cracks the seal on the bottle and fills the first glass to pass to her. "So where did you hear that song?"

"A former co-worker." Cinder takes the shot and puts it away, loving the wide eyes that Yang makes at her. "Heard it in passing and I really liked it, so I had them teach it to me."

"You remember their name?"

"Gods, it was so long ago," Cinder shakes her head, reaching for the whiskey. "I honestly can't recall."

"You're not _that_ old, are you?"

"Old enough, let's just say that." she empties the shot glass again and refills it.

Yang's golden brows rise towards her hairline, _this girl isn't foolin' around. Damn._ She shakes her head in awe. "So you come to Junior's often? I haven't seen you before."

"I'm new to this part of the city, and this place seemed like fun,"

"You weren't wrong."

"Plus, I'm looking for something." and it sounds like it slipped, and likely did because Cinder immediately recovers. "Sorry, that was too personal."

"Not at all. By all means, get personal." When it finally clicks how loaded that statement is, Yang feels her face redden a little.

Cinder giggles behind her hand. "You're cute when you're flustered. But, by the same token, you're just cute."

"Fair warning, flattery will get you everywhere with me."

"Good to know." Cinder nods. "But, lucky for you, I'm not trying to get _everywhere_."

Yang tucks her chin, feigning shyness. "Would it be inappropriate to ask for a chance to change your mind?"

"Only if I wasn't considering the same thing." Cinder winks at her.

Yang busies herself with a shot, hoping it's enough to blame the fresh flush of her cheeks on. "So what is it you're looking for? Maybe I can help you find it,"

"I don't want to talk about that right now. I'd rather talk about you."

So they talk, they drink, they laugh and enjoy themselves as anyone else would. They take time away from the bottle to dance for a spell, and the way Cinder presses ever closer time and again encourages her to eventually ask if she wants to go somewhere more quiet. That's when Cinder curls an arm around Yang's neck, her back to the buff blonde's front, and whispers in her ear. "My place is as quiet as a tomb."

Yang knows a part of her should have been terrified, knows it in her bones, but those low vibrations of warning are swamped by sheer intrigue. Sometimes she just couldn't help but to play with fire, especially when she has no idea how bad she could get burned. Yang will slide Junior a stack of bills -Cinder adding a small fold of her own money- settling her tab in full and then some for his trouble, and then slips her leather jacket around Cinder's shoulders as they go out into the night. She expects Cinder to want to dawdle a little, find a way to either procrastinate to get over any jitters she feels or to not make herself seem too eager, but that isn't the case at all. Cinder unashamedly leads her through Vale's streets, heading promptly in the direction of wherever she means to go, pulling Yang along by the pinky. The closest they come to stopping beforehand is when they wait for the crosswalk lights to turn.

Something else Yang expected was a swanky apartment, she just had a feeling by the way she dressed and carried herself that Cinder preferred finer, softer things. Instead they take an elevator up the spine of a modest highrise to a cozy but less than new dwelling. Crossing the threshold, the Luck Dragon feels a very familiar jolt, and smiles as she takes the liberty of closing the door behind herself.

"So you _are_ supernatural?"

"You couldn't tell?" Cinder grins over her shoulder as she steps out of her heels.

"Had a good feeling, just wasn't sure. Was that a sound ward?" Yang watches her nod. "Like to keep the neighbors away?"

" _Especially_ when I have company." Cinder turns to her guest and slides out of the coat. "Would you like this back?"

"It's kind of my favorite, but I'm not in a rush. It looks nice on you too, so,"

"Flatterer." Cinder cuts a slim, feline grin. "Though it totally clashes with this dress. Maybe you could help me find something that suits it better?"

Yang can't help but clear her throat, her brows cocking suggestively on a reflex. "I'd be happy to."

Cinder curls her finger, silently beckoning as she walks on with Yang in tow. The two of them disappear behind the bedroom door. Much like the walk to the apartment, Cinder wasted no time, promptly directing Yang to and pushing her to sit on the edge of the bed. She then nudges Yang's feet apart, spreading her thighs to stand in the newly created space and turning away from her. A seemingly innocuous request to pull down the zipper of her dress is read as an invitation, and Yang takes her sweet time to shape her big hands around Cinder's body.

"Stop me if I go too far." Yang says.

"I will." Cinder purrs in reply, enjoying the warmth of the palms smoothing over her backside, then flinches with a little giggle at the brief squeeze. "Can you see in the dark?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Mind if we turn the lights off?" The request comes with a slight, sheepish tremble in her voice.

Yang chuckles, her hands easing high, under her jacket in search of the zipper. "Sure. You shy?"

"Maybe a little." Another easy laugh that comes out on a little gasp, and then a light snap of her fingers bathes the room in total darkness. Both women see everything in shades of gray. "It's my first time with someone like you."

"Oh yeah? Hmm." Yang focuses on the dull whirr of the zipper, then chances to lean forward and find heated, bare skin with her lips. "You sure know how to pick 'em. Not to brag, but I'm a bit of a tall order."

"I guessed that. Still," Cinder shimmies her shoulders and hips, Yang's hands framing her sides and moving with her as her dress slips down. "I just...something about you, I feel like you have _just_ _what I need_."

Yang kisses the small of her back, grinning against her skin. "Guess we'll find out, won't we?"

 _(II)_

Jaune wakes before his alarm sounds, consciousness coming over him easily as he stretches a little. Rubbing his eyes he rolls over and taps his clock, flipping the little switch on top so it wouldn't go off in the next few minutes. He's careful when he climbs out of bed, gently turning up his half of the blankets so Pyrrha won't wake when she feels the draft of his absence. He'll pause briefly when she stirs, mumbling quietly, but then continues once she's quiet again. He only needs his memory of the room layout to find his work clothes atop the dresser in the darkness, but he takes a little more uncertain care to find his boots with his bare feet after pulling up his pants. Jaune tucks in the laces and creeps out of the room, wincing slowly as the door hinges squeak. When the door stalls against the frame he breathes a little sigh and eases down the short hallway to his daughters' room.

He knows they're already awake, somehow he just does, and sure enough he can hear them moving around and softly vocalizing to each other in the seconds before he flips the light switch. The gentle glow of a small lamp fills the room and he can't help but smile at the flickers of eye shine in response. Both twins stand up in their crib as he approaches, little hands gripping the rail to hoist themselves a little higher so they can see him.

"Good morning." he hums as he bends over them, putting himself in reach of their grabbing hands. They pat his face and pull his hair and ramble on as if he understands; they're ten months old so they have something like a language beginning to form. Their father catches bits and pieces, but nods and responds so they know he's listening. "Time to get you ready for momma, little ladies. Tema, you're first." Because Rahne went first yesterday and he had to be sure not to show favoritism. Lycan cubs pick up on those things.

Jaune looks at them both briefly before hoisting Tema up and propping her on his hip, telling them apart by their green-blue heterochromia that's on opposite sides. Carrying her to the changing table he still listens to Rahne as she watches and keeps talking in her own way. He doesn't even really need to hold Tema as she grips his clothes and hangs like a koala from his ribs. Cubs hit their developmental milestones sooner than human babies and she had been doing this for a few weeks now. He's not surprised as he was when she first started doing it, but he makes an effort to show her he notices. All three of them talk back and forth, Tema thankfully not too squirmy while Jaune tries to get her out of her pajamas and into a fresh diaper. But she'll writhe and flail like babies do, grabbing her father's forearm with all her little limbs when he attempts to put a little shirt with a cartoon sheep on her. She laughs, Rahne laughs too, and in the end he just shakes his head with a chuckle before prying himself loose.

With one cub ready he lifts her up to return her to the crib just long enough for him to go through the same routine with her sister. Rahne is the more sedate of the two, at least physically, and she's content to continue babbling while being mostly still as Jaune changes her. Though she fusses a little when daddy takes too long to pull her long, wispy red bangs out of her face and up into a tiny ponytail. Now that they're both ready, Jaune manages them both in his arms, one on each hip, and makes his way downstairs.

It's a rare occasion that Pyrrha sleeps longer than a half hour after Jaune leaves the bed. Her instincts start to bristle at his absence like the short hairs on her body when she's aware of his missing body heat. She sits up sluggishly and stretches as her mouth parts in an exaggerated yawn, then she eases to her feet and goes in search of her clothes. Going through the rest of her morning routine is easy and thoughtless, and out of habit she'll check the twins' room even though she knows they won't be there. She's smiling, rubbing the last bits of sleep from her eyes as she descends the stairs. She feels a ripple of energy as she passes the threshold between the living room and kitchen, having come into the room at the same time Ren pushes through the back door. His glamor is down, allowing her a semi-rare look at his true self. The dimensions of a large deer, with a single yet appropriately shaped antler included, the Kirin's body shimmers with scales in shades of green and pink and black. A cloud like mane of white collars his neck and chest, all four hoofed feet, and the tip of a prehensile tail. Pale pink eyes with no visible irises meet hers, blinking once as if in greeting.

Pyrrha shows no concern when the mystical creature approaches her children who are waiting in their high chairs for breakfast. Ren adores the twins, and at times Pyrrha believes he understands them better than even herself. She knows in the way he greets them, giving Tema the lightest nuzzle with the tip of his soft nose, mindful not to linger long enough for her to grab his long whiskers. And with Rahne he comes only close enough for her to reach him, as she prefers to pet his muzzle instead of being touched by him -at least when he looks like this. Once his glamor rises and he looks more human, the baby lights up and squeals with delight, reaching with grabbing hands towards his long sable hair.

Smiling, Pyrrha pushes on across the kitchen to where Jaune stands in front of the stove. Once behind him her arms slip easily around his waist as her body conforms to his, her chest lining against his back and her chin resting on his shoulder so she can kiss his neck. He hums and turns his head to her, his smile matching her own as he wordlessly requests another, this time on his lips. Unhurried and comfortable, their foreheads come together as their lips come apart.

"Good morning." he greets softly.

"Morning, love." she replies, then kisses his nose coupled with a squeeze of her arms around his middle. "Thanks for getting the girls up."

He nods. "Go ahead and sit down, breakfast is almost ready." And he knows she moves away when she gives him a light pat on his backside.

The twins immediately react when they become aware of their mother's presence, seeming to completely forget Ren as they squirm and bounce in their seats, chanting "ma, ma, ma!" Pyrrha will crouch between them, low enough so they can touch her face and nuzzle each other in their own customary, lycan way. The children mostly settle when she stands up, but they watch her like hawks until she sits down at the kitchen island, and then their attention is divided between Pyrrha and Ren until Jaune joins them.

For a spell it's mostly quiet, the adults seemingly more focused on feeding the cubs over themselves. Jaune uses both of his hands, taking bites of his own breakfast with one while offering spoonfuls of oatmeal to Rahne with the other. He's on a schedule, after all.

"I'm going to call my mom today." he says between swallows. "I'll ask if she can take the twins next weekend."

"Oh?" one crimson eyebrow lifts, Pyrrha looking clearly curious and intrigued.

Jaune nods. "Would you like to have a weekend just to the two of us?"

Pyrrha thinks a moment, briefly distracted as Tema flails her little arms because she's impatient for her next bite. Then her brow furrows. "I don't know. Gypsy's only kept them overnight before, and she was here at the house. You think she'd be okay with a couple days? With them away from home?"

"You know she would love it. She misses having babies at the Warren, and the twins adore her."

"I know, but," she gnaws at the corner of her lip, "they're still so little."

"They need to start socializing and getting away from the den. Didn't your mom say that?"

"Yes." Pyrrha sighs.

"I think Rhea's right. Ren and Nora aren't here consistently enough,"

"Not for a lack of wanting to," Ren adds gently.

"I know." Jaune nods again. "Plus the girls need to be around more blood relatives."

Pyrrha shrugs quietly and tucks her chin, looking up at her husband after a short moment. "You're right. And momma's right. Just,"

"You're worried." he finishes for her, smiling with sympathetic understanding. "And it's okay that you feel that way, but it's my mom. She wouldn't let anything bad happen to them."

Pyrrha's quiet again, focusing on the baby beside her that's waiting with her mouth open for another spoonful. She knows Jaune's right, and believes him, but something in her just can't shake a certain anxiety. And it isn't the obvious kind of a new mother handing off the care of her babies to someone else, but a strange, almost hypocritical sort that she has never spoken of out loud even to Jaune. Life is going to be hard for the twins, especially as they get older. Pyrrha wanted them to have as much _normal_ in their lives as possible, which meant keeping them away from magic and other supernatural matters for as long as she could. And as much as she loved her mother-in-law, letting her have the kids for a weekend felt contradictory.

But it had been months since she and Jaune had been really alone together...

"When?"

"I was thinking next Friday night, after mom closes the dance studio. Then we come home and get a jump start on our weekend."

Pyrrha manages a knowing smile. "And what sort of plans did you have in mind for us?"

"Well, Friday night I was thinking something simple; we could order a pizza and watch a movie, then move to the bedroom for dessert."

Pyrrha chuckles.

"Then,"

" _Da_!" Rahne shouts, still waiting for more food.

"Sorry, sweetie," Jaune apologizes, placating her with another spoonful. "Then I was thinking about breakfast in bed...maybe lunch in bed, too."

She giggles again. "Jaune, we can't spend our whole weekend in bed."

"I wasn't planning on it, but I wanted to make sure we made the most of our time." he waggles his blond eyebrows and smirks. "Besides, Saturday night I'm going to take you to dinner and dancing at our favorite place."

"That's sounds wonderful, but I'm going to take a wild guess that you mean to return to bed once we get back."

"You know me too well." and they laugh at each other, also aware that Ren is smiling at them. "And then Sunday, we can relax around the house a while longer before we pick up the twins in the afternoon. What do you think?"

"I think you might be in rut." Pyrrha feels herself blushing a little at the admission, never mind how true it actually is. She can smell it on him. "But aside from that, I think it sounds great."

Now Jaune's cheeks redden a little, feeling like he's been caught. "Good, because I've already put in for the time off. Speaking of which, I've got to run."

Pyrrha watches him as Jaune finishes his food and helps Rahne do the same. He rises from the table, the legs of the chair squawking on the tile floor, and then works around the island to kiss both twins on the forehead before giving Pyrrha a not so quick one on the lips. Their foreheads press together for all of a second before they part.

"Be safe." she says.

"I will. See you tonight." another kiss. "I love you."

"Love you too."

 _(III)_

Her sleep had been deep, like warm silk and with the taste of honey on her tongue, and those sensations linger as her consciousness gently rises. But the higher her awareness goes, the more she starts to feel reality and not the comfort of sleep, more and more clues come into focus that something is amiss.

Yang remembers the cheap softness of Cinder's bed, the aroma of flowery detergent and Cinder's personal scent in the cotton sheets. The perfect give of the mattress and weight of the down comforter had made nodding off last night so damn easy, never mind the soft hum of Cinder's voice in her ear as she quietly sang something she doesn't fully recall. Now all of that is starting to fragment and dissolve into a commingling of several uncomfortable things; first of all is that the warmth has disappeared and been replaced with a heavy and wet chill that she feels _all over_. Once her brain is able, it sends a prickling wave across her nerve endings to trigger a host of gooseflesh that yanks her consciousness higher. On top of the chill is something coarse, roughly finished beneath her bare back, something her weight pulls down on at an angle. Her subconscious is warning her not to move too suddenly or risk a splinter in all the wrong places. Now she is aware of the tingling in her arms, the phantom vestiges of feeling in her fingers, and the shock that comes from realizing she can't move her arms when she tries to snaps her completely awake.

It is most certainly _not_ Cinder's room that she finds herself in. She couldn't remember the layout of the bedroom or even the color of the walls, but she's dead-to-rights positive that they weren't made of stone. She turns her head with a jerk, feeling the resistance of something ringed and rigid beneath her jaw. Something distinctly metallic that rattles briefly against steely moorings. Yang tries to blink through her blurred vision while she tries again to move her arms from where they are stuck above her head, hearing more rattling from manacles that keep her limbs fixed in place. Panic is rising in her gut.

"Good morning. Or evening, actually. It's nearly midnight here."

Yang sees Cinder well enough even though the edges of her vision are still frayed from her deep sleep, she's the only thing familiar in this awful dungeon of a room. For a moment she settles, yet her chest rises and falls with quick pants. "H-hey, when I said I was into bondage, this isn't quite what I had in mind."

"Oh, do you not approve? I mean, I'm sure you're not _entirely_ comfortable at the moment," Cinder stands before her, still wrapped up in Yang's leather jacket, a stray motion of her hand pushing a loose curl of hair from her face. "But that's somewhat the point."

"The point of _what_?"

"Well," Cinder looks away, smiling comfortably as she takes a few leisurely steps forward. "It's like I said last night, I was looking for something, and I had a good feeling you had just what I needed."

"Yeah, I remember that." Yang tries to nod and can't fully do so. She tugs at the manacles at her wrists again. "I thought you were just looking for a good time."

"That too, and you really were _quite_ wonderful." Once she's close enough she looks up at Yang, partly admiring her muscular frame trussed up like it is. She takes the tip of one finger, pressing just enough of the edge of her nail into Yang's sternum, and drags a slow trail to her navel. The restrained woman's stomach jumps and a curt breath hisses through her teeth.

"Okay, so you got what you wanted...but needed?" Yang has to look down her nose at Cinder, unable to tuck her chin enough due to whatever it is fixed around her neck.

Cinder hooks the dark purple boy shorts she left on her guest's body with that single finger, tugging almost playfully, wondering if Yang will appreciate the generosity of having spared some of her dignity later. "I need you, if you can, to tell me where the Scribe is."

Yang stills, even her chest pausing, then her face slants into a fierce grimace. "What makes you think I know that?" Somehow her expression grows more ferocious before she continues with " _Who the hell are you_?"

"Rarity follows rarity, or so I've gathered. I've been at this a _long_ time so I've managed to pick up a few things." Cinder pulls back her finger, letting the waistband snap back into place and making Yang jump. "Things like you being a female Luck Dragon that favors her father -not very common. And there's more, or so I've heard."

"I'm not telling you shit."

"You don't have to."

Yang inhales and exhales heavily through flared nostrils, feeling the pitching heat of her own breath. "Look, you let me loose _right. Now_. Or this place is going up in flames."

"I'd _love_ to see you try."

Instantaneously Yang can feel her true nature stirring in her heart as she takes another deep breath, in a split second she can taste the smoke and coils of it start swirling between her teeth that are starting to look more like fangs. Cinder just looks on, amused, eyes glowing with interest, showing her own pointed canines amidst a catlike grin. She doesn't even flinch when Yang pushes every last ounce of air out of her lungs in one powerful burst, casting nothing but embers and more smoke into the air that only spirals around Cinder before dissipating. Yang's confusion laced anger makes her laugh.

"Gods above, you're so _cute_ when you're angry." Cinder subdues her giggles enough to say. "Blue Jade." And she loves the way Yang's expression morphs again, this time to wild disbelief, when she points towards her own throat.

Yang swallows hard, her mind connecting the dots. Whoever Cinder _really_ is, she has done her homework. And with that realization, Yang accepts the fact that she is in desperate trouble.

"I know who you are, Yang - _what you are_ \- and I know what makes you tick." Cinder continues comfortably. "By the same token I know how to hurt you, which I would rather not do. So how about you do us both a favor and tell me what I want to know?"

"How about you blow it out your ass?" Yang's biting retort emerges as a grinding, throaty growl, sparks still flickering behind her teeth.

" _Now_ your mother comes out! Hah!" Cinder almost cheers. "At first I had my doubts, I mean you _do_ look a bit like her but -oh my god, are your eyes reddening?"

Sure enough Yang's once lilac irises swirl and glisten with scarlet fury that only seems to deepen in those few seconds. Smoke is coiling from her nostrils as breaths heave through them, and her hair has a certain glow that waxes gold and then threatens red like her eyes. Cinder's smoldering amusement sputters then, her smile kinking into a serious half snarl as she spies the blackness starting to cloud Yang's skin and how her fingernails are starting to turn into talons. The energy in the room pitches heavily, prompting a swift response. With a wince and a grunt, Cinder puts her thumb between her teeth, biting the pad hard enough to draw blood. Without spilling a drop she takes enough steps to stand just in front of Yang, and rises to the balls of her feet to reach the furious woman's forehead and quickly smudge the wet redness in what looks like some sort of symbol.

Cinder takes a reflexive, cautionary step back, watching as the seal does its work and subdues the magic in the room back to where it was. Yang's eyes remain red and caustic, but she has otherwise returned to her previous appearance.

"So it's true. It's all true." Cinder is smiling again. "Raven really is your mother...your _birth_ mother at least, that makes you one of the rarest creatures in the cosmos."

Yang pulls against her restraints again, feeling the muscles of her human frame straining to the point of pain. The mark on her forehead burns, suppressive, but it's far from being hotter than her own rage. " _Who are you_?!" she roars around half formed fangs.

Cinder just looks back, molten gold meeting boiling blood as she holds that horrid, toothy grin of hers. With a breathy laugh of an exhale she turns away, heading for the heavy wood and iron-laced door. "Truth be told, who I am isn't all that important, not to you at least, because _I'm_ not your biggest concern any longer." She hooks the handle with one finger, pulling it until the hinges squeal sharply. Stepping out of the new opening she allows another to pass, a much smaller woman with bi-colored eyes and hair dyed to match. She's smiling ear to ear and eying Yang with more than obvious interest. " _She_ is."

Yang's still scalding gaze flits from one woman to the other, a touch of curiosity flickering in the knit of her brow. When she looks down at the smaller one a second time she catches her blinking, sees the change in her eyes, and feels her fury mount.

"Neo's going to be keeping you company while I go make some arrangements, and when I get back, maybe you'll feel up to talking?"

" _I'm going to rip your face off and wear it on All Hallows_ , _you hear me_?! _**You hear me**_?!" Yang screamed, the threat bouncing off of Cinder's back as she had already started out of the room into whatever shadows were beyond her sight, then out came a bellowing roar that released a veil of embers into air. The flickering ashes dance around Neo, who has yet to take her eyes off of Yang, and when the Dragon glares down at her again her smile somehow widens, appearing unnatural. Off frame.

Neo's hands move with purpose, gestures that Yang recognizes as some form of signage yet cannot interpret. She assumes it's nothing good because she knows what she's looking at, a sort of creature she had been assured was long extinct, and it makes her gut twist.

"Take your best shot." she snarls.

Neo covers her mouth with both hands as if she means to laugh behind them, but remains silent as the sound that should have been translates through her body like it would with anyone else.

 _We're going to have so much fun._ Her hands had said, and Neo planned to make good on her word.

Author's Note: Like I mentioned before, this story won't likely have the finesse and impact of Embers, but I still think it has some really good bones so far. Still introducing a lot of elements, and still got more to come before the story really kicks off, but just bear with me and I think you'll have a good time. Comments are always welcome and thanks for stopping by.


	3. Chapter 2

**Wild Hunt**

 **Chapter Two**

A Witch is methodical, regardless of the type. At least, that is how Weiss Schnee was raised to operate. Witches, especially White Witches such as herself, are calculating, disciplined, and thorough to the nth degree. They know their rituals forwards and backwards and in three different -mostly dead- languages, and could easily recite the entirety of their personal grimoire in their sleep. Though that last part was mostly the subject of rumor, and had only been passed around as hearsay by novices after botched seances. But, regardless of reality or myth, Weiss is true to the stereotype of the meticulous Witch.

Particularly in this moment as she moves in direct lines from one end to the other across her startlingly white bedroom's floor, switching predictably from purpose to pacing. She wants to be certain everything is right where it needs to be, including herself -her mindset and focus- before taking the next step. She's rehearsing in her head several scenarios, conversations, outcomes to what she means to do, and she hardly likes most of them. A couple are objectively terrifying for her. But she forces the little shakes down - _discipline, discipline, discipline_ \- and returns to the last of the details, placing a remaining collections of items on a fine wooden table across from the foot of her spacious bed. Once she has nudged and inched and micromanaged everything in to place to her satisfaction, she stands between the table and her bed and takes a deep breath. She then closes her eyes and focuses, a little flux of cold energy shuddering through the room.

There's a solid sliver of darkness between the drawn back curtain's of Weiss' bay window and the corner of the wall, and it ripples like smoke, threading briefly before parting as an equally ethereal, humanoid figure steps out of it. The walking shade solidifies, turns pitch, then peels away like a veil to reveal a woman, a sable cat Faunus to be precise. Slitted amber eyes blink until they adjust to the light in the room, furred ears flitting atop her head as she crosses the floor with whispering steps towards the White Witch that called her.

Weiss senses the energy shift in the room and opens her eyes, turning her head in a relaxed way towards her new guest, smiling in a subdued fashion. "Blake," her expression quirks, curious at Blake's outfit, "oh...you're working?"

"The Khan doesn't know I'm here, but I can't stay long. What did you need?" Blake watches Weiss for a moment, dark brows see-sawing at the subtle but numerous changes that come over her face. Namely in her icy blue eyes. "It's not like you to hesitate."

"I'm sorry." Weiss turns to face her, hands behind her back so Blake can't see them fussing together. "Just, I have a bad feeling."

"Mind a quick explanation before I agree to anything?"

"I have been trying to reach Yang and...there's been no response." Weiss' eyes are towards the floor, focusing on Blake's tabi style boots. "You know how this works; usually we can just think about her and she answers somehow. Either one of us could just speak her name and she'd appear. But," she swallows, "I tried that day before yesterday. For a couple hours I thought about her, then I called out to her, and nothing. Not even a notion in the aether."

Blake's ears slant back in a singular, snapping motion.

"And yesterday I tried a ritual. Still nothing."

"Well, if she didn't come for a _ritual summoning_ ,"

"I know, but I wanted to try again, just to be sure, and I wanted you to be here because...well, you're her favorite."

"Yang doesn't play favorites."

"Yes she does." Weiss chuckles. "She hides it well, but you really are. But that's not what this is about. Will you help me?"

"Of course. What can I do?"

"I've already set up the altar. All I need you to do is just be here, put your energy out there, you know how it goes."

Blake nods and moves to stand beside her in front of the altar. She spies nothing unfamiliar on the table; Yang's preferred liquor, her favorite incense burns in a small bowl made of polished brass, a trio of saucers cradle a variety of snacks, and all these things are arranged in a semicircle around the gilded statue of a serpentine, Mistrali Dragon. Looking further down, to the floor, Blake sees the Mistrali script drawn on the varnished wood in purple chalk -Yang's favorite color- to form a ring. The base of a summoning circle. Movement in her peripherals draws Blake's gaze, and she finds Weiss is offering her hand. Blake takes it, giving the Witch a reassuring nod.

The Faunus has a hard time focusing properly in the beginning, partly because she can feel Weiss's worry like a wire brush just under the surface of her skin, and partly because she's trying to understand why she's worrying in the first place. Yang had been known to drop off the radar from time to time, that's a Dragon's privilege after all. But not to at least give some form of an answer to a paramour's call, much less a ritual, is decidedly not. If anyone knew how to lure out a magical being, it would be a Schnee.

Perhaps Weiss really did have a reason to worry. It's an idea that Blake becomes steadily more inclined to accept as the minutes tick by without so much as a gust of wind to stir the smoke from the incense. And if it wasn't for that, Weiss' gradually tightening grip would have sufficed.

It might have been ten minutes, maybe twenty, at this point it didn't much matter. Yang didn't appear or show any sign of intending to do so.

Weiss let go of Blake's hand, drawing back from the altar as her face drops into her open hands before her fingers press into her eyes.

"What do you think?" Blake asks gently.

"I...I don't know, this has never happened before." Weiss shakes her head, then she looks at Blake, eyes pleading. "How is this even possible?"

"She could be visiting another plane, or in between, or visiting one of her temples. Enough people praying makes enough interference to feel across the country."

"But _nothing_ came back, like she doesn't exist." The fear is in her eyes again, only more intense now. "I...what if she's in danger?"

Blake seems to balk at the idea. Her ears flatten out to the sides, making her look vulnerable and unsure, a stark contrast to the resolute darkness that the Shadowmancer seemed to embody. It takes a moment but she pulls her briefly scattering composure together, her ears marking the shift as they slant up and forward. "I have to get back, but I'll keep my eyes and ears open, look closer when I'm able. Until this job is done I can't do much, and there's no telling when we'll be finished."

"I understand." Weiss nods. "I'll talk to mother, see if there's anything she can do as well. Is it still the," the volume of her voice abruptly drops, "Cornerstone case?"

Blake just nods in confirmation. "The Khan has been running all of us from one corner of Remnant to the other over it. We haven't turned up much of anything yet, but a lot of us think we're getting close."

A fresh terror seems to flicker across Weiss face. "What if they're related?"

"That's...not very likely."

"But what if it _is_?"

Blake takes a breath, trying her best to understand. She doesn't know how to be afraid for Yang, it's just a fact. She loves her, cherishes her presence and their bond, but she just can't be worried for her because she knows Yang is powerful. Nothing could put down Yang Xiaolong. "If I...even _think_ I hear a rumor that something has happened to her, related or not, you'll be the first to know."

"Thank you." she exhales, looking only marginally comforted. In a rare gesture, Weiss opens her arms and silently requests a hug -very out of character for her- and perhaps the shock of such an act is what makes Blake readily react. Blake takes the smaller woman in her arms and holds her close, the best way she can show she cares, and kisses the top of her head before letting go.

"Be safe."

"I'll do my best." the Faunus nods one last time, taking one big step back before she heads for the shadows she first emerged from, disappearing once again.

 _(II)_

Beyond the cold cruelty of the fortress' dungeon at its highest reaches, there is a surprising scene of comfort and decadence. Corridors were well lit by tireless braziers, the walls decorated with countless articles of both woven and painted artwork. The rooms meant for visitors, that is those attending of their own volition, are furnished and well kept, otherwise the spaces are, at the very least, clean and dry. It was the way Cinder had found it when she took over, and the way she saw fit to keep it as she -like most of her kind- enjoyed such luxury and order.

Having just left the lofty tower, Cinder makes her way two floors down, not the ground level but just above it, where more private business is attended to and kept away from prying eyes and ears. With a bundle draped over one arm she passes several open doors, meeting rooms and repositories, to the only closed one. Seeing as this is _her_ domicile, she doesn't bother knocking before letting herself in after opening the heavy door with a jerking, upward lift of the heavy metal handle. The hinges groan as the door swings open, allowing her step into a well lit and warm room that, at a glance, appears to be just another library of sorts.

Following the rug between the first pair of bookcases discards the illusion of a simple archive, revealing the room's more accurate description as a laboratory. All the other bookcases form a circle around the center of the room that descends down nearly ten feet. At the bottom are tables that line the walls, each of them loaded down with phials and glass tubing and countless other containers filled with equally countless substances. A recessed fireplace growls with warmth, the usual occupant of this space needing constant heat just to stay awake enough to work. However, said occupant is not immediately visible in its glow, convincing Cinder to stay amongst the books to find her. At first she stands on the rim of the shallow pit, leaning on one foot than the other to peer around the shelves in hopes of spotting her, then gives a quiet shrug of inconvenience when she has to start walking again.

Cinder finds her at the far side of the room, behind all the shelves. In the ceiling is an iron track that circles the entire room, and at it's end is a wide and deep cabinet that now sits open and empty. Usually it's home to a collection of maps, but now every last one of them is held open on a metal frame and hanging from the track in the ceiling. The frames are fitted with rollers, allowing them to be pushed along the track until each are on full display, easily accessible with just a few steps to the left or the right; Cinder's associate is currently doing just that.

"Emerald," Cinder calls out with care, not wanting to startle her.

The darker skinned woman's head snaps in Cinder's direction, crimson irises settling on her reflexively from behind circular frames. "Oh, I didn't hear you come in."

"I'm sure you're busy." Cinder grins as she continues her approach, chancing a glance at the maps as she goes, recognizing most of them without trying to. "Found anything interesting today?"

Emerald almost grins, hints of fangs between her lips. "Not as much as when I started." she watches as one of Cinder's brows lift with curiosity. "Nothing you've been looking for, though."

"No sign of the Scribe?"

"No, not yet." she shrugs quietly, taking the glasses from her face and rubbing her eyes briefly. "Maybe if I also had the High Minister's _eyes_ ,"

"And if I had thought you could use them I would have taken them."

"I know." Emerald sounds almost flattered. "In any case, I wouldn't be able to find him unless the minister knew who he was, but you know how those rules work so it's likely he didn't."

"Indeed." Cinder's displeasure simmers in her voice. Then she exhales, resigned. "So be it. All the same, I have something for you." When she sees the jewel like shimmer in her partner's eyes she makes a gesture, beckoning Emerald along back towards the shallow pit that they might converse in better light.

During the short walk Cinder asks again about what Emerald had found with the magic of the minister's spectacles, thinking it might improve her mood. The first day Emerald wore them had been full of discoveries, going through maps of the other planes one by one and finding such well kept secrets as Oberon's throne room, the Winter Court, and the Great Abyss. And even though Cinder didn't currently have access to these locations, just knowing where they were could prove to be a huge advantage for her. Today had yielded a great deal less, however, but she expected that, it's the nature of these things. She finds herself chuckling when Emerald claims to have found the plane of Fire, Cinder's peoples' home dimension -"You know, if you happen to get homesick."

Once down the steps and in the glow of the fireplace, Emerald takes a moment to warm herself before turning to face Cinder. "So what did you bring me?"

Cinder is already grinning from ear to ear, smug because she knows how this is going to go. She can feel Emerald watching as she places what looks to be a roll of canvas on one of her tables, mindful of the glass as she starts to pull it open. Emerald's shadow flickers across the table as well as she approaches, her pace quickening as Cinder's gift is slowly revealed. A little gasp escapes as firelight catches immaculate golden strands.

"What is this?" Emerald's interest is palpable, and if it wasn't, the wideness of her faintly serpentine eyes was proof enough of it.

Cinder takes a step back, still smiling as she props herself on one hand, the other fist on her hip. "Luck Dragon's mane."

"Gods above, it's _beautiful_." Emerald chances to gently stroke the tresses with her fingertips. "How?"

"Courtesy of our new guest, and I made sure Neo took special care while collecting it."

"Amazing," she breathes. "Is that what all the screaming I heard was about?"

"No, that's was just the north wall wraith acting up again."

"Oh." a little giggle, but it was an honest mistake. The wraith only manifested so often, and she knows Dragons in general could be vain, particularly in regards to their hair.

"What can you do with it?"

"What _can't_ I do with it? I mean, it won't make finding the Scribe any easier, but," her mind is buzzing with possibilities, unable to settle on just one even for the sake of giving an example. "Although, not to sound greedy, is there anything else?"

"Not yet." Cinder chuckles warmly. "I haven't really put the screws to her, but give it another day or two. What do you want?"

"In a perfect world? Tears. Blood is great and all, but Luck Dragon tears are one of the most potent spell ingredients I can think of. I might even be able to alter the enchantment on the minister's glasses."

Cinder's eyes flicker with renewed interest. "How?"

"I'll have to look into it, but your guess is as good as mine. A component that rare, I can only imagine."

"How much would you need?"

"As much as you can get me, because I'm willing to bet this is going to take a lot of trial and error, even for me."

"You'll have everything you need." Cinder assures her, shifting to straighten and advance a couple steps. She watches Emerald's eyes as they watch her hand rise, pale fingers touching Emerald's naturally chilled cheek with the knuckles. "Just like I promised."

At first she seems to enjoy the contact, briefly content, then that shifts into something else. Some form of amusement. "You know you don't have to kiss up to me like this."

"But I thought you liked the kissing?"

"I do. But you and I both know I don't mean that much to you. We're just a couple of misfits," Emerald brushes her hand gently aside, no malice or bitterness intended, and she's still grinning somewhat. "Animals using each other any way we can."

Cinder's gaze shifts away and then back again. "True enough, but I figured you would appreciate the illusion."

"If only that sort of magic worked on me." but she was immune, both to such enchantments and such bullshit, by the nature of her species as well as her upbringing. "Though I'm grateful for the effort."

"Good to know." Cinder smiles again, but it's much more eyes and teeth than a second ago. "Suppose I'll leave you to your work then?"

"If there's nothing you need,"

"Not at the moment."

"Then I'll see you at dinner."

"Until then." Cinder takes a step back, bowing a little in a way that feels half mocking and half amusing before she takes the stairs up and leaves the room. From there she'll make her way back to the tower, feeling the need to watch someone suffer for a while.

 _(III)_

Agharta, City of Waterfalls, _Cor Meum_ , three of the multiple names for the same subterranean metropolis buried within the stony heart of one of the cosmos' many planes. It's home to countless supernaturals and mundanes alike, but is best known for hosting the headquarters of the Wild Hunt. Agharta's hub was made up entirely of the ancient complex; training grounds, archives, armory, barracks, and the mausoleum easily encompass a square mile of estate with its columns and spires and parapets.

The mausoleum is the last resting place of every hunter -or what remains of them- that had ever earned the title, vaults lining the walls in seemingly endless rank and file that only descends to impossible levels beneath the city. A broad, well lit walkway spirals downward from the entry level, sparse groups of still living hunters and other denizens heading up and down, some breaking off into corridors to find the vaults they seek. Qrow Branwen is among those heading up and eventually out, the only thing out of place in this being that his twin is nowhere in sight.

Raven remained in the lower reaches, among nothing more than torchlight and the echoes of steps as she lingers with what little free time she has. The back of her mind itches with the knowledge that she should head back, return to the surface and to the council waiting to grill her again about the leads that are running out and the progress she hasn't made. Her chest expands and contracts in congress with the furrowing of her brow.

She comes here whenever she feels overwhelmed or lonely, and today she feels a sizable mixture of both as she runs her fingertips across the petals of the rose relief carved in the stone cover of the vault in front of her. When her mind can no longer bear the weight of her station, she busies it with memories of her lost partner and dearest friend, Summer. The silver-eyed sylvan fae had always been so...jovial, which was such a staggering contrast to everything else about the Wild Hunt, and Raven almost laughed at her recollection of thinking Summer obnoxious when they first met. She remembers getting to know Summer, her and Qrow growing to love her in a way, and eventually seeing her as the closest thing she had ever had to a true friend. Enough so to tap her as her top lieutenant upon receiving the rank of Huntmaster.

What she would give to have Summer here now, if for nothing else than to feel the comfort of having someone to lean on -something she just couldn't do with her brother.

"Raven."

She doesn't jump or flinch, neither does her awareness at the unexpected sound of her name. She's knows that voice, knows its softness intimately, and it had never startled her. Her body expands and contracts again. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Weren't _you_ the one that waived that for me?" there's no humor, the question rhetorical, meant to remind. "I need to speak to you."

"Can't it wait? I need my privacy at the moment." her fingers linger on the floral relief, and she knows his eyes are on it too. When she can see in her peripherals that her guest doesn't move, she turns to look, her crimson eyes meeting deep blue with a neutral setting. "So?"

Taiyang Xiaolong takes a trio of easy steps closer, pushing a hand through his short blonde hair before pulling the same hand down his face. He's uncomfortable, not because of the place but because of the company. He keeps a touch more than an arm's length away from her, feeling her energy bristling against his in some unconscious demand for space. "Yang is missing."

Raven blinks at him, once, twice, then her brow knits gently before she looks away, back to the vault. "You're sure? She isn't off on one of her inter-planar romps?"

"There have been...multiple attempts to contact her," Raven is surprised by Tai's formal language, almost ill at ease about it, "without a response."

"She likes to ignore people when it suits her."

"There have been three formal summoning rituals."

One sable brow lifts but her eyes remain forward, her gaze liked to burn a hole through the heart of the rose. "Who performed them?"

"Weiss Schnee was the first. The second she performed in the presence of Blake Belladonna."

"How long has she been with those two?" she chuffs. "Maybe she thinks it's time to look for new paramours." she doesn't so much see Tai's disapproval as she feels it. A Dragon's hidden fire on the back of her neck.

"Ruby and I performed the third."

Raven scowls fully, crossing her arms and tucking her chin. She knows Tai well enough that she's aware of his less than stellar talent at formal magic, and Ruby's much too young to be proficient, never mind her heritage. But a Schnee, they are the name in rituals and if _they_ can't get anything resembling a reaction, that's saying a considerable amount.

"She _never_ ignores Ruby. Ruby and Summer were the only ones she _always_ answered. Something is wrong."

Raven remains silent another moment, her mind working at a low simmer. "What do you want me to do?"

"What are you able to do?"

"At the moment?" She looks at him again, her tone hardening slightly, "nothing."

"Raven,"

"My hands are tied; until the minister is revived or the Cornerstone is found, every spare minute _and_ hunter I have is occupied."

"Raven, _please_ ,"

"If we don't find who took it, it won't matter what Yang has gotten herself into."

The two scowl at each other, Dragonic and Daemonic auras invisibly sparking between them.

"Can you at least pretend to care that she might be in danger?"

"I don't have the luxury of breaking down and dropping everything, Tai. I'm-,"

"Huntmaster." he cuts in. "Then can you at least care in _that_ capacity? We _both_ know the kind of target she is to the right people."

Somehow her scowl tightens further, the redness in her eyes shimmering like smoldering coals. There's something maternal in her quiet seething, maternal fear of the list that's forming in her head of the Supernaturals that would want Yang and what they would want her for. And she knows because she's seen it happen to others in her near millennia career, had a too large ledger that acted as a catalog for the recovered body parts.

"Unless you can prove someone has taken her,"

"Three dud rituals isn't proof enough?" his tone is still soft, but she can see a certain shimmer in his eyes now. The pupils are slitting. "Do I need to bring the whole Schnee Cabal into this and have you watch?" And he was ready to do it, and knew he would get the help he needed. "What do I have to do? _Name it_. Give me just _one_ hunter, it can even be a novice fresh out of training if that's all you can spare. Or give me someone who knows a guy that knows a guy - _I don't_ _ **care**_. _**Anyone**_."

She just looks at him, expression unchanged, but her heart is hammering behind her ribs. To slow it down she takes a deep breath, and drifts back to the security blanket that is the carving on the vault's facade. "Does Qrow know?"

"I spoke to him on the way here."

A little, sardonic chuckle. "And did you make all these demands of _him_ , too?"

Tai's scowl sours further, threading with hurt. "I didn't have to."

Raven's lips tuck between her teeth, thoughts momentarily lost. "I...all I can do for now is not interfere with whatever you mean to do. I'll give Qrow as wide a berth as I can, and if a hunter tries to get in your way, just tell them to talk to me. I can't...I can't do much more unless you bring me hard evidence."

Tai eventually huffs, a ribbon of smoke slipping between his teeth in resignation. "Thank you." Resentment rings in the words.

"I'm sorry, Tai. If I could,"

"Of course you would." he closes the distance between them, Raven physically bracing for something from him, but he disregards her. He reaches out to touch the vault instead, running the pads of his fingers over the relief in a way much like Raven had. If only Summer were here... "Happy hunting, Raven."

She says nothing and watches him leave, her gut turning in on itself. That maternal fear has morphed into a nauseous pain, and she hates how powerless it makes her feel.

Author's Note: Safe to say I'm not a huge fan of Raven. Make no mistake, I think she's a wonderfully complex character, but I don't like her as a person. And as gentle as Taiyang has always seemed to me, this is a special circumstance. So yeah. Next chapter I'm going to try and paint a more in-depth picture of the Nikos household, as well as giving the audience more information about Cinder. Hope you're having fun so far, and feel free to send any questions my way, just can't promise I'll be able to answer them all for spoiler's sake.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

It's rare for Qrow Branwen to spend much time on Remnant at all, much less travel there to begin with. Typically he sequesters that energy to only visiting his nieces, but today he yields to the pull of a summoning ritual that brings him to the coastal capital of Kuo Kuana. He steps through a shadowy portal in a nest of palm trees, unseen by anyone as is preferred. He knows anyone sensitive enough would be aware of him, but unless they were the ones who called, he didn't have the time or means to care. With his customary slump he stalks out into the open, blinking at the harsh tropical sun burning down on him from a partly cloudy sky.

The magic pulls him out onto the docks, tugging him towards the edge of the pier and what he thinks might be a smaller than average but less than modest Junk only a few yards out. He hates warping, but does it anyway to spare himself the spectacle of walking across the calm shallows to reach the boat. With a pop of crimson and black smoke he reappears on the deck, spooking the only two ship hands that appeared to be present. He knows what they are, knows the man with orange hair and dark skin is only human while his massive, Mistrali looking counterpart was anything but. Thankfully, before anyone has a chance to say anything, the cabin doors swing open. Qrow spies a familiar beret and aviator sunglasses before he makes out the tattoos across Coco's face. Then he feels the magical residue around her, marking her as the one who summoned him.

Coco lowers her glasses to look at him, a little smirk forming. "Didn't expect you to get here that fast."

"I try to make time for my kids." He briefly reminisces about a little girl training with the Wild Hunt to become a Sentinel, shadowing him for years before receiving her markings. "But I don't have a lot of time, so let's get to it."

Coco just nods and tilts her head as she walks towards the stern of the ship, a gesture he follows. They eventually stand across from each other, both leaning against the side of the boat with their arms crossed in the exact same way. The sails hide the sun so Coco removes her glasses, rubbing her eyes gently.

"So what's up, Adele? Is Velvet okay?"

"She's working on the mainland," Coco nods, "it was the only time she felt comfortable without me nearby, otherwise I would have contacted you sooner."

"What do you mean?" his brow knits, eyes thinning curiously, cautiously.

"You're still working the Cornerstone case?"

"Yeah."

"I've got a lead for you." and something like pride stirs in her when she sees his features stretch. "I don't have a name, but I've got a face, and I figured that would be more than the Hunt has right now."

"You'd be right. So?"

"Had a client about a year or so ago-,"

"What? Why so long?" He snaps.

"I'll get to it if you zip it for more than two seconds." she sasses in spite of his scowl. "Velvet had a reading about a year or so ago, and I knew just by looking at her that she wasn't human, but that's all I was certain of. Not that I didn't try to figure it out, because I did. Something was blocking me."

Qrow's expression sours. "And this woman asked about the Cornerstone?"

"More specifically, where it is, but she made sure Velvet accepted payment before asking."

"That means whoever she is knows the rules."

"Oh yeah, knows enough to put truth seals on some of the bills. And another reason I couldn't get to you sooner is that I found oblivium glyphs too. Velvet and I both forgot she had even been there; Velvet still doesn't remember, but, you know, being a Sentinel has it's perks."

"Still, you forgot long enough for it to count." Qrow grumbles, hating this more and more with every minute. "Explains why you had to make sure she wasn't here, either." Because Oracles can't rat out their clients, no matter what fuckery they're up to, lest they lose their powers. And if Velvet had known what Coco was doing, she would have been forced to stop her for her own sake.

"Admittedly, I took advantage of her altered memory too, but it doesn't breach my oath so, you know." and Qrow's subsequent nod offers a bit of comfort.

"So what did she look like?"

"Average height, dark brown hair. What stood out to me the most was her eyes, like gold."

One sooty brow rises. "And you couldn't suss out what she was, even with direct eye contact?"

Coco shakes her head slowly, seeing fit to put her glasses back on as a stray breeze turns the sail. "She had to have had a _hell_ of a glamor spell going for me not to see through it. Now that I think of it, _is_ there such thing?"

"Sure there is, I can think of three Witches off the top of my head that could hoodwink you without a second thought." he chuckles roughly. "Still...is there anything else?"

"Yeah." Coco chuffs. "She's the one that iced Ashita."

His eyes widen. " _She_ killed Salem?"

"Velvet saw it in her vision, and when she confronted her she didn't deny it."

"Gods have mercy." he exhales, the motion working through his entire, stilt-like body. "Well, if nothing else, that's _one_ mystery off my list." The Renard Cabal could take care of that once he had delivered the news. "Is that everything? Can you think of something else? Anything at all?"

"Well, it might not mean anything, but there was fire about her. I know anyone with a grade school reading level can pop a flame from their fingertips, but...with this woman, it was like it was _inside_ her."

Qrow's expression shifts again, his red irises snapping to Coco in a split second and holding her own gaze while his mouth thins into a stiff line beneath the stubble. That didn't sound good to him at all, and even worse was how very short a list of possible answers he had to these new questions. None of which he liked by any stretch of the imagination.

"I'm sorry it took so long for me to get to you, Qrow."

"Don't worry about it, you did what you could. But this helps, so I'm grateful, really."

"Can I do anything else?"

"Maybe." he seems to relax a little, shifting to his feet and unfolding his arms to put his hands in his pockets. "You haven't seen Yang around lately, have you?"

"I," her mouth hangs briefly, seemingly stunned by the question. "No, can't say that I have. But she isn't much of a regular here anyway, not on _my_ ship that is. I mean, she hangs with Yatsuhashi sometimes, parties with us, but when she's here she usually stays with the Belladonnas."

Qrow seems to deflate.

A flicker of genuine concern moves across Coco's face. "Something wrong?"

"Maybe. But, just keep your head up, okay? If you see or hear anything, let me know."

"Sure, old man. I will. Should I ask Velvet?"

"But then she'll wonder what I was doing here in the first place, and that could be a problem. And you can't right out lie to her."

"True enough." Coco shrugs. "But I'll keep in touch, I promise."

"Thanks kid. Take care of yourself."

"Happy hunting, Qrow."

And he nods in appreciation before opening a portal and disappearing through it.

 _(II)_

It's been too quiet today, Cinder thinks. She steadily, casually circles the winding stairwell to the tower, her hands behind her back, and uses a puff of air from the corner of her mouth to push a stray curl from her face. Yes, too quiet, too little screaming. Time to peek inside and see what Neo's holding up on, considering it was already after midday and she hadn't heard so much as a whimper.

The chamber door opens easily, with a surprising lack of whiny iron, allowing Cinder a rare glimpse of Neo with a look of surprise once she realizes Cinder's presence. The little woman sits at a table that she had brought up, an apple between her teeth, looking to have paused for a meal. For a moment Cinder just looks at her, unreadable yet curious, then her glowing eyes shift ahead. She sees Yang still chained to the table as she was yesterday, but the platform was now horizontal, the mechanism at its base adjusted. The Luck Dragon appeared to be sleeping soundly, something that Cinder almost found offensive to her expectations. She looks back at Neo then, her eyes skating a little lower to an empty phial on the table.

"No tears yet?"

Neo shakes her head, chewing leisurely.

"Did you try the water torture?"

Now she nods, signing. _She went into a sort of trance. No reaction since._

"Huh, never heard of that. What about-," she stops when Neo's hands keep moving.

 _Because someone has been trying to summon her._

" _Oh?_ "

Neo nods again and points, encouraging Cinder to look for herself.

Curiosity plainly twists Cinder's face now as she takes still steady steps towards the sleeping Dragon. She isn't surprised by the lack of wounds on Yang's body; the blue jade inhibited her powers a great deal, but she could still heal faster than a human -her hair is looking as full and lush as ever as well. But, by the same token, she isn't surprised to see the half dried ribbons of blood around her mouth, having come from her nostrils. Cinder cocks her head, smirking a little with amusement. It was one thing to resist formal rituals, it was another to be barred from answering, and she had enough wards on this place to trap someone's last breath. The strain must have been incredible.

"Someone knows she's missing. In that case, we need to pick up the pace." but she sounds so unbothered, not even inconvenienced. Cinder still feels safe and hidden, which is what she cares about most for now.

Cinder tucks her hair behind her ear and leans over her slumbering guest, appearing to study her. She can see Yang's eyes moving behind the lids, thinking she may be dreaming and part of her hoping they're pleasant. She leans a little closer, maybe an inch away from touching the tip of the Dragon's nose with her own.

In the next instant, Yang's eyes snap open and her head jerks upward, whatever strength she had coiled behind the motion, causing bone to snap against bone, and Cinder's head to snap backwards as she sharply recoils. Then she begins to laugh at Cinder's groans of shock.

Stinging warmth floods Cinder's eyes at the thick pain in her face, but, strangely, she starts to chuckle as well. "Oh-ho-ho, so you've still got some fight in you, do you? Hah,"

Yang just continues to laugh sluggishly, her brain still frazzled from pain and fatigue and the magical tug-of-war she had been enduring for days.

Cinder checks her hands for blood, finds none, then wipes her eyes, still seeming amused. In the next moment she hops up onto the table, effortless, and then drops to her knees to straddle Yang's hips. The poor Dragon has no idea what's happening until she feels the cruel hooks of Cinder's fingers digging between her ribs, the pain snatching the breath right out of her lungs and making her body try to buck off the table. The wet smack and splatter tells Neo that Cinder had broken the skin, and shortly after she comprehends the hiss of scalding flesh. She stands up so she can have a better look.

Yang's eyes are wide open and wild towards the iron grate above her, irises burning red as she fights the urge to scream. The sounds that do escape prevent her from hearing Cinder calling Neo over, to bring the phial with her.

"I warned you." Cinder hisses, fingers clutching by a fraction.

Before Yang can even think to formulate a response of some kind, she's flinching away from the feeling of hands around her face. Then she barks in pain at the clenching hand in her hair, the hand that lifts and then slams her head back down with a heavy _THOCK_. It's dazing, painful, and it keeps her from resisting further. The edge of something cool presses against her cheek, snatching away the heat of a stray tear.

"I'm not doing this because I like it, Yang, really." her voice has changed, as dizzy as Yang is, she knows Cinder's voice isn't the same. There's something like the dull growl of a bonfire in it now. "Unfortunately, Neo _is_ ,and when I walk out that door, you will be completely at her mercy. The kid gloves come off, and you don't want that. So this is the _last_. _Time._ _I'm_. _**Asking**_."

Yang blinks her vision clear and manages to focus on Cinder. The glow of her eyes is haunting now, menacing, and something about her face has changed. Her lips...they're thinner, pulled wider...her teeth. Yang can see the curl of tusks where her canines should be, and her eyes are solid gold. Gold like the coiling sigils she can see smoldering into view across her skin. Now she knows. Gods above, she knows what Cinder really is.

" _Tell me where the Scribe is_!"

"Y-you...you fucked me in the dark so I wouldn't see your magic tramp stamp. Bet you think you're smart." Cinder rumbles with a frustrated growl and flexes her fingers, now tipped in brimstone talons, pressing deeper. Yang traps the subsequent wail of pain behind clenched jaws. Gasping, she recovers, and sputters "Your _prison tattoo_."

" _ **Tell me**_ _, or I'll make you wish you had never been_ _ **born**_!"

Yang stills, incredibly so against the barbs of hot agony she feels -hot because the fire in Cinder is rising like her anger-, and she meets Cinder's smoldering gaze with her own. "Then you better make it count, or I'll return the favor."

For several tense seconds they hold each other's attention, fury and defiance in equal measure on both sides even as Cinder continues to close her fingers tighter into Yang's flesh, embers and smoke fluttering from behind her teeth. When Cinder accepts that she wasn't going to yield, she'll release her grip in one quick jerk, and the Dragon seems to choke on the relief as smoke rises from the burning wounds.

Cinder jumps down and starts in irritated strides for the door. "I'll be back at midnight, and I expect that phial to be full." she snarls, and tendrils of smoke follow her out of the cell.

As furious as she is, Cinder will pause at the top of the winding stairwell, heels together, stuck in the instant before she takes the first step down. At the strange, phantom tug on her thoughts, she turns, only half way around before stopping again. The fury leaves her, her appearance diminishing back into her more human disguise as she looks back the way she came and acknowledges what is there.

She had seen countless unusual things in her life, so it doesn't exactly scare her to see the silvery mist gathering just outside the torture chamber door. It's more so puzzling. That is, until she waited a moment and gave it some thought. Then it was only a little amusing. Cinder watches as the mist coalesces into something like a solid shape, just barely there, but a faint shape she recognizes though it looks to be little more than an empty cloak of mercury fitted around an invisible figure.

"Go back to your wall, wraith." she cuts a smoldering grin with the entity shifts, seemingly regarding her directly. "I doubt you want to watch what Neo's going to do to her, considering watching is all you can do now." and she follows it up with a heartless giggle.

 _(III)_

Music and dance plays an integral part in the Arc family, going back all the way to Jaune's maternal grandparents, Maab Renard and Rusty Quetshadee. Both were natives of Menagerie, Maab being born on the north east shore with its Mistrali influences, and Rusty more to the southern interior where Caravan style was most popular. The two met at an annual festival and hit it off almost immediately in spite of their numerous differences. At the very least they got along enough to have a child together.

Gypsy would be raised mostly by her father, learning Caravan so she could join Rusty in entertaining tourists and add to their meager to modest income. It would be at the same festival that her parents met that Gypsy would encounter Noah Arc, a traveling musician that charmed her almost immediately. Everyone in West Shore thought they married much too quickly, but they were too happy to care. With that being said, it should come as no surprise to learn that it didn't take much time at all for them to start a family. After Gypsy became pregnant with the twins -daughters two and three by then- they thought it time to settle down properly, and with Rusty's passing they decided to move to Vale, where Noah's family would be close by to help them acclimate.

After the twins arrived, Gypsy began working towards starting her own dance studio. With her mother's help, Maab having become a renowned instructor in Mistral by then, Gypsy was able to open the Fleetwood Dance Hall within a year. Of course, there's nothing simple or easy about running a business and raising a family, but the Arcs made it look effortless.

Four more children and thirty years later, Gypsy is the only officially recognized master of Caravan outside of Vacuo, and has expanded her school's curriculum to include other styles such as Valen Ballroom and traditional Mistrali. Nessa and Trixie -daughters two and three- manage the ballroom classes with Jaune helping a couple times a week, and as for the Mistrali classes, Gypsy had to go outside the family for a teacher.

At the same exhibition where Gypsy received her Master's accreditation some four years ago, Maab had sung the praises of one of her own students. It was rare for Maab to brag on anyone, but once Gypsy saw Pyrrha Nikos dance, she understood completely. And then she saw the look in her son's eyes as he watched as well, and knew she had to extend the offer on the spot. Now, not only does she have a decorated Mistrali teacher, she has a daughter-in-law and grandchildren.

Gypsy is in her office, going over the previous month's books when one long, lapin ear tilts atop her head, turning towards the door in the second before a little device buzzes on her desk; someone just came into the studio. She closes the ledger and tucks it away in its drawer before stepping out, heeled shoes clicking on varnished wood floors. A beaming smile pulls her lips, shows teeth, when Pyrrha greets her, and though Gypsy returns the gesture her eyes are on the little ones, one in each hand and safely in their hefty carriers.

"Here, let me have one." Gypsy offers, hands up and open.

"Which one did you take first last time?"

Gypsy's ears cock unevenly as she thinks, unsure. "Let me take them both then."

Pyrrha exhales with a laugh, relenting because she knows there's no sense in arguing. The twins giggle and squeal, always happy to see their grandmother, keeping their blue and green eyes glued to her as they all head back to the office. Gypsy sets them down atop the desk, both facing her so she can lean down and kiss them both. She doesn't mind when they reach for her ears, lowering them intentionally so she can watch them tug with their tiny hands. Moments like this make her miss having little ones of her own, then her back creaks a little when she straightens up and remembers why she didn't have more.

Pyrrha thinks to correct her mother-in-law, thinking if the girls think it's okay to pull ears now they won't be able to break the habit later, but she catches her tongue between her teeth. _No, Gypsy knows what she's doing, it's fine, don't worry so much._

"Goodness me, they're getting so big." Gypsy sighs. "Are you my chunky pups?" she giggles when the twins laugh like they understand. "Yes, you're my little chunky pups,"

"Do you think I'm feeding them too much?" she sounds genuinely concerned.

"Oh, heavens no, not at all. I'm just playing with them, dear. In truth, I don't think you can _ever_ feed lycan cubs _too much_."

Pyrrha feels a little embarrassed, and doesn't realize it shows on her face until Gypsy looks and smirks up at her.

"And even though you're not, I might be tempted to when they come to stay with me, because that's what grandmothers do." the older woman laughs again and straightens. "Jaune did mention that to you, didn't he?"

Pyrrha nods. "I appreciate the offer,"

"But you're nervous about not being with them, I know. I hope you don't feel like you have to just because it's me asking."

"No, no, I don't, really." Pyrrha shakes her head, her long red hair tossing against her shoulders. "Jaune's right, we need some time for us and...and the girls need to get used to other family members being around, and..."

"And I'm proud of you for making the effort." Gypsy rounds the desk and grabs her up in a quick hug. "You have my word, the cubs will be back in your arms, safe and sound."

"I know you will, but thanks for the assurance." Pyrrha hugs her back and then steps away. "You mind occupying them while I change?"

"Oh, sweetie, twist my arm why don't you." Gypsy is more than happy returns to her desk chair, scooting it closer to the desk so she can continue playing with the Tema and Rahne.

Pyrrha would look back as she walks out of the office, consciously resisting the urge to do it again as she walks further from the door and towards the entrance, meaning to fetch her dance bag from her car. Just as she reaches the glass double doors, her hands on the handle, shadows fall over her from the far side and make her pause. For a few seconds all she can do is stare at the two men through the transparent panes, her supernatural instincts suddenly bristling hard. The wolf in her is telling her to run, to grab the twins and make a break for it because she knows what she's looking at isn't human like they appear. But all she can manage at first is to hold the door, knuckles white, ready to put her weight against it should the two men try and push their way through.

Then there's a shift in her wariness as the two strangers step aside, parting at the shoulders to make room for a third body coming from behind them. She is only partly relieved to see Jaune coming towards the door, and has no choice but to let him in. Pyrrha can't find it in her to say anything as her husband gathers her up in his arms and greets her, the two men following him in.

"Hey, you okay?" Jaune immediately notices Pyrrha's tension.

"Do you know them?"

"Oh yeah," Jaune's smiling as he backs away, putting her only a little at ease, "this is Yang's dad, Taiyang, and her Uncle Qrow."

Pyrrha looks at them, briefly blinking. "Oh. Okay. Why are they...?"

"I'm guessing they're here for me." Gypsy adds from her office doorway, she shoulder propped against it as her arms and ankles cross.

"Mom, is everything okay?" Jaune's eyes flit from Gypsy to Pyrrha and back again.

She wants to reassure him, tell him it's likely nothing serious, but that feels too much like a lie. She clears her throat gently and stands up. "You mind keeping the little ones a minute more? Let me have my office back?"

Jaune and Pyrrha both nod and start to fulfill her request as Gypsy gestured to her visitors to come and join her. Not knowing how long this would take, she asks Jaune and Pyrrha to handle things, at least until one of his sisters arrived, before closing the office door. Pyrrha stares at the door for a long moment, her unease coursing beneath her skin like static. It never sat well with her when Supernaturals showed up in her life unexpectedly, even if it wasn't directly involving her.

When she's finally able to turn away she lets her gaze fall, zeroing in on Jaune as he crouches in front of the twins. He's talking to them and letting them grip his fingers, leaning in close so they can smell him and touch his face. Her anxiety ebbs a little, letting her smile.

"Hey, can I get some of that attention too?"

Jaune smirks when he looks up at her, kissing Tema and Rahne before standing up. The following embrace was easier, more relaxed than the first, they smile at each other and Jaune peppers his wife's face with light kisses before finally taking her lips with his own. She smells oil and smoke on him, what he always smells like after work, and it comforts her more.

"You should clean up," Pyrrha says when she can use her mouth for talking again. "Students will start showing up soon."

"Well, if we're quick, we can clean up together." there's a peculiar lilt in Jaune's voice, and that coupled with a waggle of his eyebrows makes Pyrrha roll her eyes a little.

"Nothing we could do would be quick enough to keep our little ones from thinking we've disappeared forever and having a meltdown."

"Hm. True enough." he sighs. "Guess it'll have to keep until we get home." Jaune kisses her forehead. "I can't wait for this weekend. It's still on, isn't it?"

"I guess so, yeah. Unless whatever Gypsy's into right now changes anything."

"It shouldn't. I mean, even if mom has to pop off somewhere, my sisters will be happy to take the girls for a day or two."

Somehow that makes her even less agreeable to the idea.

"We tried to reach you at home, but, clearly, you weren't there." Qrow grumbles as he finds a space against the wall to occupy.

"You ever thought to try using a phone, huntsman? Would've saved you time." Gypsy shakes her head gently, hear ears cocked unevenly. Then she addresses Taiyang. "Would you like a seat, my lord?"

"N-no, madam," he's caught off guard by her formality, "but thank you."

"Very well." so she takes her seat back in his stead. "So what can I do for you, gentlemen?"

"Has Maab spoken to you recently?" Qrow asks.

"Unfortunately, no. Why?"

"How well sealed is this room?"

"As well as I want it to be. What's this about?"

"Your sister was murdered, we're sure of that now, and we have a link to her killer."

Gypsy's blue eyes widen, her ears erect and rigid. "That so? In that case, I'm surprised you didn't bring my mother with you."

"She knows, and she's making some arrangements for...something. Honestly I'm too afraid to ask at this point."

"And Glynda?"

"She's next on my list."

"Alright." Gypsy nods once, ears still in place. "Now, not to be rude, but why are _you_ here, Mr. Xiaolong?"

"My daughter's missing."

"Which one?"

"Yang."

Now the Faunus' ears lean back and her brow lowers. "So what brings you to _me_? You have a huntsman right here, her mother is Huntmaster, and, last time I checked, Malphasians are in the business of finding lost things,"

"Raven is still working the Cornerstone case, she can't get away." Qrow shrugs, his shoulders dropping like an invisible weight just settled on him. "And I haven't found anything either. I've checked all her favorite places, no one recalls seeing her."

"Which is unusual, considering how she is. Did you try Junior's?"

"First place I went."

"And we've tried summoning her too, multiple times." Tai adds. "Schnees were involved."

"Oh." Now her ears drop, almost disappearing in the bushels of curls covering her neck. "No answer at all?"

"None."

"Oh dear." Gypsy leans back in her chair, seeming to hug herself.

"If there's _anything_ you can do to help us," Tai gushes with a restrained sort of desperation, "please. I'll give you anything."

"Don't worry about that. I owe Yang a favor anyhow, and even if I didn't, all you have to do is ask." Because no Witch with any sense would turn down an opportunity to earn brownie points with a Dragon, doubly so if that Dragon was the Xiaolong patriarch. "Can I guess you want a planar scry, then?"

"Can you do that?"

"I can." one slow nod. "But we'll have to go back to the house. And I'll need some things of Yang's, at least of yours." her ears tilt in Tai's direction.

"Of course, I know what you need. I'll meet you there."

"Me too." Qrow straightens a little.

"No, sir. You're riding with me, huntsman. You're going to tell me everything you know about what happened to Salem."

"I...yes, madam." he yields, knowing it wouldn't be in his best interest to argue. "Lead the way."

Author's Notes: I'm very pleased to say the reception of the story so far has been wholly positive. I appreciate everyone who has chosen to read, for those coming back from the Embers ride or just getting on board for the first time. Welcome and, again, thank you. One of the comments mentioned how it's a lot to take in, and I'll admit that's very true; I do my best to weave in lore and concepts as I go, but there's a _lot._ So feel free to ask me anything in regards to lore and what some of this stuff entails if it gets to be confusing, or if you're just curious. So long as it doesn't give up any serious plot points, I'll be happy to elaborate for you as best I can. Catch you all next chapter!


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Since the Cornerstone's disappearance, a large swath of the supernatural world had been on edge, namely those groups who could actually do anything to find it or keep the rest from finding out and starting a panic. All of the major cabals, the Cosmic Dragons and their various sects, and the White Fang were the domestic parties at work on Remnant, each doing their part to fulfill both aforementioned goals. The Witches and Dragons and other sentient magical creatures could easily do this, the Cabals having well established public faces while the Dragons and such could easily hide in the background and do the less...easily explained things such as moving across the planes and talking to the dead.

The White Fang, however, had these advantages in spades. Much like Witches, they had a face the world recognized and respected, the agency best known for privatized military and security contracts as far as the mundane world could tell. In terms of the supernatural, they cornered the market on Shadowmancy and had the largest concentration of masters in the craft. The sitting Khan, Sienna, is a prodigy in the art and ran the more secretive ranks of the Fang with near flawless precision in tandem with the organization's public face, Ghira Belladonna. Presently, Ghira keeps operations moving same as usual, not wanting there to be any ripples that might make someone -anyone- think something might be amiss.

While Sienna has her proverbial feelers out in hopes of hitting some sort of lead, her power over darkness allowing her direct links to all of her agents. She knows the odds of the Cornerstone being on Remnant is exceptionally small, couldn't do that math to save her life, but she had at least a little hope in possibly catching a clue as to who took it. Someone pulling a job off like that? Not a chance in hell it stays under wraps for long.

The Khan sits in her personal alcove, legs crossed and hands folded in the space between her thighs, deep in mediation as her magic works. The room is dimly lit and dark, midnight blue. Water is pumped through a fountain in the wall behind her, falling from a stone tiger's open jaws into a recess in the floor. The recess forms an intricate design that takes up the entire floor, forming the elaborate outline of a flower that Sienna sits in the heart of. Her orange and black striped ears stand upright, drawing in the sound of the water to help her focus.

Those same ears flutter at something, a sound no one else could have possibly picked up on, no human anyway. She feels the weight of another presence, and reluctantly opens one gleaming, amber eye.

"Afternoon, Sienna."

Both eyes blink open and her brow furrows, concentration broken by mild confusion. "What are you doing here, Kali? Not that I'm not happy to see you,"

The petite, black Cat Faunus smiles and wiggles her ears. "I don't mean to disturb you, but I feel like the matter just couldn't wait."

"And which matter is that?" Sienna's ears cock to match the uneven position of her thin, dusky eyebrows.

"Yang's missing."

Brief pause as Sienna looks her over, her gaze lingering on the little box in Kali's hands. Plain, wrapped in brown paper and twine. "I thought that was just a rumor."

"I don't believe it is." her gentle happiness fades to concern. "Qrow was in the capital yesterday, came to the house asking about her. You know how much hates coming here."

"I do."

"And that was _before_ Blake came to me with it."

"Oh?" The surprise morphs into reluctance, her ears folding slightly down. "That _is_ unfortunate, Kali, but I'm working too closely with the Hunt to worry about that right now. No offense to you or the Xiaolong family."

"None taken. But I am here to ask that you give Blake some...leeway."

"Pardon?"

"Let her conduct her own search," Kali smiles again, "as she continues the work you have for her currently, of course."

"Kali," Seinna's lips tuck between her teeth, she's looking for the most respectful way to say no. "If we don't find the Cornerstone,"

"Please, Sienna. I understand the circumstances, I know how pressing the matter is, but," the elder Faunus takes a breath, her ears drooping as she exhales. "It's Yang."

"And her mother is Huntmaster, this seems more like _her_ concern."

Kali scowls, ears snapping back and flat against her sable hair. "You know Raven better than that. _We all do_." she says flatly. "I'm not asking that you call Blake back, just that you let her roam a little."

For a moment the Khan is silent, meeting the other woman's eyes without blinking, but not without a twinge of healthy, respecting fear. Then "What's in the box?"

Kali's expression softens, and she smiles reservedly. "Your favorite. Palmiers."

A breathy chuckle. "You bring those so I wouldn't say no?"

The air in the room shifts though there are no visible changes anywhere. Energy ripples around Kali, invisible yet tangible. "I brought them in hopes that I wouldn't have to make you say yes."

A little chill vibrates through her as she feels more than sees a glimpse of what she knows Kali is. What she _really_ is. Just as she knows that Kali means to do as she pleases, because the list of people who can stop her is startlingly short, and Sienna isn't even on it.

"I don't like to push like this, you know that. And I'm not trying to challenge your authority,"

"No, I understand. This is personal for you." Sienna nods once, feeling the energy in the air settling back to where it was. "The Xiaolongs are lucky to have you care about them so much."

"Was that a joke?" Kali smirks, not at all offended.

"Not intentionally." she shakes her head then sighs, resigned. "Blake can act as she sees fit, just ask her that she not stray _too_ far from her mission."

"Of course. Thank you." Kali bows her hear out of nothing more or less than honest respect, kneeling briefly to set the box on the floor, within Sienna's reach. Then she leaves the room the way she came, in a shadowy yet transparent ripple, leaving no trace.

 _(II)_

Gypsy had made a conscious effort not to appear as anything other than the picture of calm as she strode out of her office and asked Jaune to handle things until she came back. He had simply nodded and accepted she had to leave without a question about it, which is how he guessed she preferred it. Though Gypsy could feel her son's eyes on her even after she was certain to be out of his field of vision.

Taiyang went his own way as Dragons tend to do, seeming to vanish into thin air and taking the low simmering heat of his presence with him. Qrow follows Gypsy at a step behind, hands in his pockets with his customary skulk as they walk towards her peach colored Cadillac. He knows she's watching him as he gets in, seeing a slight discomfort in his motions as he simply isn't accustomed to automobiles. He slouches in the leather seat, hands still in his pockets.

His crimson eyes slide to her, finding Gypsy staring at him. "What?"

"Seat belt."

"Oh. Right." He manages to pry one hand loose of his clothes to pull the belt awkwardly across his waist until it clicks. "Happy?"

"Quite." she smiles and nods, strapping herself in before starting the vehicle. "Now," she holds her words until she's left the studio parking lot, "what happened to my sister?"

It takes him a moment to start talking, partly trying to force himself to remember the details enough to filter the more gruesome things away from the necessary ones. He didn't need to tell her every last thing, since Salem's funeral had been closed casket. So he trimmed it down to the basics. "She was tortured...for days probably." and he watches her, discreet, measuring her reactions. They're subdued and translated mostly through her ears and her knuckles as they pale when she grips the wheel. "At least she died quickly, though."

"At least." she chuffs cynically.

He feels a charge of energy roll over him, making him flinch. "But Raven thinks that's actually a clue about her killer."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Sometimes things have a habit...a signature I guess would be more accurate, and the Hunt is actually kind of familiar with the particular way Salem died. Except..."

"Except?"

"No one should be signing off on people like this anymore." Qrow shakes his head, seeming to sink lower in his seat. "You know about Changelings, right?"

"Naturally."

"Well, you ever heard of a Changeling Painmaster?"

For a brief instant Qrow would swear he saw her scowling, but whatever vestige of the expression that meant to appear just as quickly vanished, and her long ears snapped straight back instead. "It's been a minute. Think I recall Raven claiming to have slain the last of them."

"Something she was uniquely proud of, until we found Salem, that is. That means that one's still kicking around, or, at the least, someone who was trained by one before they were wiped out."

"But certainly a supernatural?"

"I can't imagine a mundane pulling this off, not on Salem. And I definitely don't see some normie knowing our rules as well as whoever this is."

"What do you mean?"

"Coco told me about a woman who came to Velvet about a year ago and got her to squeal about where the Cornerstone was."

The car jerks, almost to a complete stop, the huntsman lurching forward into the unforgiving embrace of the belt across his belly. When she apologizes he forgives her, not that he could do much about it if he didn't. He clears his throat and continues.

"But that's not the worst of it. She covered her tracks while she was at it, in ways that even the Hunt can't get around. We don't even know where to start looking and we're already a year behind her."

Gypsy is quiet for a long moment, looking to focus on the red light ahead so she doesn't acknowledge the little fury in her gut. The quickest way to get on Gypsy Arc's bad side is to mess her with her family -doubly so if you go after her children. She takes a quiet breath to maintain her focus, waiting until the light turns. "So is that why Raven let you come out here with Tai? It's better than running willy-nilly across the planescape?"

"Not entirely. Tai thinks Yang's disappearance might be related."

Her blue eyes widen. "...Oh dear."

"I know." And as serious as the matter is, he can't help but grin a little when he feels the engine rev a little louder as Gypsy puts more weight on the accelerator. He's quietly glad Gypsy understands, not in the mood to explain the reasoning behind it because he hates saying out loud how his niece should have never been born to start with. "Not to say I don't have faith in you, Gypsy, but I'm just...I'm worried. I mean, even a _Schnee_ can't get a bead on her."

"I'm not a Schnee." she replies with a sharp finality.

The drive is roughly a half hour, taking them out of the outskirts of Vale and into the fringes where the country starts to feel empty. The car rolls off of the paved road and onto gravel, rumbling and pinging with flung pebbles as it starts uphill and into the trees. The timbers eventually open up into a field populated by fences and livestock and a trio of barns, one of which serving as the main house. Just as the car pulls to a stop, but Gypsy and Qrow feel the warm ripple of energy that announces Taiyang's reappearance. He warps as close to the house as possible, feeling the repulsion of wards and other magical things distinctly Gypsy's that he has never been given permission to cross. This puts him only a few steps ahead of the car, where he patiently waits for the others to catch up.

The two men allow Gypsy to lead the way, knowing that a certain supernatural etiquette needed to be observed at the moment. This was _her_ property, _her_ home, and even Taiyang had to yield to the power of that fact. They wait until she opens the door, inviting each of them in by their full names and titles, making sure they understood they were only welcome "for the day."

"You have a beautiful home, Gypsy." Taiyang feels surprisingly at ease as he steps inside and looks around, relieved of the burden of the magic that was pushing against him before.

"Thank you, my lord." It's the same compliment she gets from every first time visitor, but she never fails to appreciate it. "We'll have to go up into the attic, it's the only place I could keep the kids out of."

The entrance to the attic is tucked behind a false wall at the back of the pantry, both Qrow and Tai making expressions of impressed surprise as Gypsy pulls the wooden panel open to reveal a ladder. Those same expressions hold as the three of them reach the top to find a well organized and tidy space. Bookshelves are systematically arranged and dustless, and china cabinets full of countless trinkets rank the walls. A collection of skylights allow sunshine to filter in and reflect off the glass in the cabinets.

"So what did you bring me?" Gypsy asks softly, like she doesn't want to disturb the books as they pass by.

Tai's hand is still in his pocket, pausing briefly until he pulls it out again. "Yang made this for Ruby when we found out Summer was pregnant."

Gypsy smiles as she reaches out and accepts the loop of braided hair, the golden weave soft as silk and immaculate. She runs the pad of her thumb over it. "There's a lot of love in this, that will help."

The trio continue on to the far end of the room, where a long wooden table takes up residence at the center of a semi-circle of bookshelves. Gypsy requests that Tai wait at the far end of the table across from her, instructing him to pull out the corner and having to show him how it's done on her end before he follows through. There's a heavy _clack,_ and Gypsy turns the top of the table, flipping it completely over on an invisible joint until the mechanism clicks again. For a moment both men stare with widened eyes at the few dozen carvings in the richly stained surface.

The huntsman looks at Gypsy with a subdued severity. "You converted Zerline's Atlas into a _table_? And hid it in your _attic_?"

She nods once, smugly smirking. "And you had no idea it was even here until you looked at it."

His mouth opens to answer, but then it slowly shuts in resignation.

"I would've bet money that Ozpin had this." Taiyang is shaking his head, only a little disbelieving.

"He did." Gypsy chuckles. "But that's a story for another time. Let's see what we can find."

Taiyang and Qrow step away from the table in unison, just as they feel a little spike of anticipation settle in the same instant. They watch Gypsy run the braid across her hands several times, her ears ticking independently of each other as the magical energy in the room steadily mounts by degrees like static. Eventually it peaks and holds, seeming to centralize around the Witch as she carefully puts the ring of woven mane around her neck. There's a certain shimmer to her eyes now as she scans the atlas, briefly studying each of the symbols in turn to search for an initial pull, like searching for the light switch in a dark but familiar room.

Each symbol represents a plane of existence in the known cosmos, including some that had long since ceased to be or that were permanently shut off from all the others for one reason or another. Without touching the surface, Gypsy allows her hands to drift over them, all her senses keyed into whatever feedback she might receive. All the while the two men in the room watch, anxious.

Taiyang feels like a spring that's coiled too tightly and he hates it. Gods above, please, just let _something_ happen. The seconds feel like little eternities, and he feels ready to jump out of his skin when Gypsy's long ears suddenly snap back and her brow quirks. "What is it?"

"I'm...not...entirely sure." and the way she says that, the tone, only serves to make Taiyang feel worse. "There's...I've never felt this before."

Tai manages to make himself move, walking around the table until he stands across from Gypsy. Looking at the atlas he sees the seal beneath the Witch's hands, the carving resembling a lunar moth within a ring various blossoms. One golden brow arches. "That's...isn't that The Midden?"

"It is." Gypsy replies plainly, sounding like it's the only thing she's certain of.

For the first time in days, Tai feels a little relief. "That's Summer's home plane, Yang goes there when she wants to be alone."

"But that doesn't explain why she hasn't responded to the rituals. And," her eyes thin, "something is pushing against me."

"What?" Qrow straightens from his usual slouch.

"Just as I said, there's resistance...it's actually trying to block me _and_ my magic." Gypsy pulls her hands back, rubbing the sensation of pins and needles from her fingers. Her expression holds a clear grimness, her ears remaining at their uneasy slant. "Something's amiss."

Taiyang feels his heart drop into his stomach, almost heavy enough to push the breath from his body. "But Yang,"

"To be honest, I can't be certain if she is there, only that it's where her energy is the strongest."

"Then I'm going,"

"No you're not." Qrow quips roughly. "No one's going to The Midden, no one's been _able_ to go there since the only Gatekeeper in Remnant that could disappeared about two years ago."

The three of them exchange tense looks with one another. Gypsy's ears sink impossibly lower, almost disappearing into the plentiful fluff of her hair. Tai has his bottom lips stuck between his teeth, half formed fangs pinching.

"But that means Yang couldn't have gone there by choice." the huntsman continues.

"So someone took her?" Gypsy thinks aloud, crossing her arms as she meets eyes with Qrow. "And if that's the case, they may have taken our Gatekeeper as well."

"One would venture to guess." Qrow frowns. "But it might just be enough to convince Raven to give the matter some personal attention, at the very least she should let go of my leash."

"Then let's talk to Ra-" Taiyang freezes abruptly, mouth still open, and there's a loud snap of static that only he can hear. "...I have to go, someone's summoning me."

"You go, I'll handle my sister."

"Thank you." Taiyang shuts his eyes and appears to tense. A few seconds tick by before he opens them again, looking a little puzzled.

"No teleporting in here, sweets, you have to go outside." Gypsy reminds him gently, fighting back a grin.

"O-oh, of course...I knew that." He sputters and blushes.

"Of course." She nods, this time tipping her ears forward as she lifts the woven mane form around her neck. "Take this with you before I'm too tempted to keep it."

"Thank you, Gypsy." he takes the braid, all but clutching it between his hands. "If you ever need anything, please ask."

"Don't give me that kind of power." she finally grins. "Now you best be on, both of you. I'll be around if you need me again."

 _(III)_

A lot can happen over five days, one could get a lot of work done with even a little effort in that time, and while this is very true in regards to Neo and Cinder's work, it isn't wholly accurate. They have put a great deal of work into making Yang reveal the Scribe's identity, but that says nothing for the progress they have made. Which is to say they haven't made _any_ at all. Cinder knew a Dragon could take a lot of punishment, even one as young and stubborn as Yang, but part of her had been certain she should have broken by now.

Neo had gone through a significant portion of her sinister repertoire without success. Now the changeling has foregone the hands-off and complex torture methods for more basic means, but supplements them with tools of both mundane and magical nature. She favors the vajra, a small but powerful artifact that channels electricity seemingly out of nowhere. She pokes and prods at Yang's naked sides, blinking at the sparks that fly, sometimes leaving red blossoms on the Dragon's human skin while contemplating how much farther she could push the envelope. When Neo wants some amusement during the rare breaks she takes, she'll sit on the table where her other instruments lay sorted in a row and throw little bo shuriken at Yang. _Usually_ she hits the wooden platform, making Yang jump, but she occasionally -not so accidentally- hits flesh and gets a silent giggle out of the sounds the helpless Dragon makes. Although, admittedly, the fact that she heals so quickly takes some of the enjoyment out of it.

As much fun as her accomplice is having, Cinder is certainly not entertained. She's feeling little tendrils of pressure, like her advantage is slipping, and she does _not_ like that idea. Her patience is particularly thin today, and after perhaps an hour of watching Neo work, some little meanness in her snaps. She can feel brimstone boiling in her veins, frustration, and her teeth are curling into tusks again as she pushes Neo aside. She approaches Yang in predatory strides, her smoldering golden eyes meeting scarlet tinged lavender and defiance for all of a second before Cinder just lays into her. Heavy impacts echo off the stone walls of the chamber, ringing up through the iron bars as Cinder's fists connect with Yang's body.

"Where is the Scribe?! Gods damn you, _TELL_ ME!"

Cinder feels the click of ribs giving under her knuckles, bones snapping clean apart, only to forget the sensation as it's replaced with the softness of Yang's stomach. She'll pause to let Yang gasp and wretch, starting again without delay once she gets her breath back.

Neo flinches from time to time as the beating continues, impressed by the severity of it. Cinder was in rare form today.

Panting a little, Cinder stops again, the skin on her knuckles split and reddened. She reaches up and grabs a handful of hair, lifting Yang's drooping head. Then her mouth twists into a tusked snarl before she belts Yang across the face with the back of one hand, the beating starting anew. One fist opens, talons exposed, and swings upward to connect with a wet _WHACK_. Cinder stops again, one heavy glob of blood dripping from her middle finger as it had cut the deepest.

Yang's head hangs, throbbing and heavy. Her mind is whitewashed with pain and exhaustion, and agonizing static rings through the rest of her body. It hurts to breathe, to blink, she needed to cough at the wetness in her throat but knows that will hurt too. She coughs anyway, an unwanted reflex, and tenses at the pain she both was and wasn't ready for. Blood spatters to the floor, some of it dripping thickly down her chin to stain her chest and roll down her sweaty, bruised stomach.

A cruel hand clutches her jaw, tips of talons threatening as her head is forced up and back against the wood. The torchlight hurts her eye -the other one is swollen shut so it doesn't matter- and she screws it shut, a shock of fresh ache sparking across the top of her head.

" _Tell. **ME**_." Cinder growls.

Yang just manages to open her eye enough to see, just so she can make out the blurred shape of the creature in front of her. She coughs again, this time behind a tight jaw, and cringes at the wash of fresh copper in her mouth before spitting it out. Yang can't help but laugh at the subsequent shriek of disgust, if you can call controlled sputtering laughter.

Cinder shivers with fury, one hand dragging down her face, smearing the blood and spit. Her eyes glow with rage at the sight of her messy palm, a heavy exhale casting coils of smoke into the air. She'll spin around, now facing Neo who is suddenly stock still and refusing to move, and march towards the table with an eye on the array of tools laid out across it. No hesitation, she snatches one of them in her claws and turns back to Yang. Again, no hesitation as she reaches for one of Yang's restrained hands once she's close enough, working the Dragon's human thumb through the circular opening in the tool that looks similar to a pair of mundane pliers. Cinder squeezes the handles together, activating the simple yet effective mechanism.

For a moment, everything disappears, the entirety of Yang's awareness collapsing under a violent shock of pain. She screams, for the first time the air is shattered by an unrestrained wail that is equal parts a human's cry and a Dragon's roar. The sound rips free of her, dragging down into hoarse whimpers before Yang devolves into shuddering sobs.

Cinder's rage seems somewhat sated now, though her eyes still shimmer like the heart of a volcano. She comes to stand in front of Yang, bending for just a second to pick up the freshly severed digit that has begun to morph into it's original shape -a golden scaled claw. That's not growing back.

"Now," she exhales, thinner, near invisible ribbons of smoke writhing from her nostrils. "I think it's best that you tell me what I want to know. You've only got nine fingers left."

Somehow Yang lifts her head, though it's quite clear that it's a hell of an effort. One eye focuses defiantly on Cinder. "Y-you...and you've got...nine chances left to impress me."

Her eyes thin and she frowns. "Suit yourself."

And as the day carries on, the cries of the north wall wraith will join Yang's, grief commingling with agony.

Author's Note: I don't know what this chapter feels so weird, but it does. I get the feeling I'm not spending enough time with Arkos right now, but I'll fix that in the coming chapters. The plot is on the verge of kicking off, so just gimme a little more time. Hope you're having fun reading, because I'm actually having fun writing again. Questions and comments are always welcome.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Cinder's kind didn't need to sleep often -they used to not have to sleep at all- but when they do it can be for days at a time. Though she personally made an effort not to, especially now seeing as she hadn't the luxury to throw half a week away in bed. Still, she had deemed herself deserving of a short nap, only ten hours give or take, and almost reflexively shuffles her still groggy self through the fortress to Emerald's lab once she was coherent enough to do so. Mind you, not having to sleep regularly means she doesn't have a waking routine either, so she's something of a mess. Dressed almost properly, but a mess all the same.

Emerald sensed her nearby and made a few small preparations; Cinder liked a glass of wine after a nap so she makes one and sets it at one of her smaller -cleaner- tables and pulls out a chair because she knows Cinder won't be quite able to do so on her own. She's more likely to throw the chair across the room than sit in it when presented with the need to pull it out in order to sit. Then just as the door to the lab squeals on its hinges, she starts stoking the fireplace. She watches Cinder carefully navigate her way down the small set of stairs into the alcove, eyes shut and her hand bracing on the wall, and can't help but smile just a little. She seems so mortal.

Cinder finds her way to the table, following the smell of smoke and wine until she bumps the chair. There it is, a brief shudder of fury and a flicker of teeth, but she tames herself enough to sit, more so flop. She holds her head like it weighs a ton, her mussed hair almost concealing her face as well as her arms.

" _Ugh_ ," Cinder groans, the sound dry and full of ash, "I hate this body."

"Yes, but you'll hate it a little less after you've had a drink." Emerald responds gently, coming to sit at the far end of the table, arms crossed.

One amber eye squints, glowing in the shadows cast by her hair, and zeroes in on the glass in front of her. There's a nod and a rasp of thanks in Emerald's direction as Cinder straightens, slowly wincing at the stiffness in her neck and shoulders as she picks up the glass. She takes a second to sniff it, figure out exactly what it is, then downs the whole thing in one smooth pull. Cinder exhales slowly after swallowing, flickers of blue flames curling around her lips as the fire in her ignites the alcohol. She smiles, seemingly more comfortable, then sinks back into the chair. "Thank you."

"Can't have you dragging ass like that all day, can we?" Emerald smirks.

"Gods forbid." Cinder grins lightly, pushing her hands back through her hair after setting down the empty glass. "I can't _wait_ to get rid of this shell."

"I know. Speaking of which, how are things? Awful noisy last night, and I'm fairly certain it wasn't _just_ the wraith."

"I haven't checked in with Neo yet today...what day is it?"

"It hasn't been a full day since your cat nap."

Cinder nods. "Last I checked, not so well, then. We're going to have to do something...time might be running out." she scowls, staring at the distorted flames through the wine glass. "How about your project? Anything?"

"I'm waiting for the ritual to resolve, then I'll know something."

Another nod. Formal spells could take anywhere from a few minutes, to a full year to complete, so Cinder knows there's no sense in bitching about it. "What are you trying to do to the glasses?"

"I want to tune them into the cosmic energy that's unique to the Scribe. We know the glasses can see it, but right now the spectrum is too broad. But gods only know if I can."

"Come now, give yourself a little more credit."

"It's not about my ability, it's the fact that those tears were taken by force. Things like that matter."

"True enough, but," she pauses, her mind still too sleep idled to finish.

"Well, whatever comes out of it, it'll be powerful. No doubt about that."

Cinder chuckles. "It's certainly a start."

Before Emerald can say anything else, both women look up and in the direction of the door, hearing the metallic whine of the hinges. Both are unconsciously counting the clicks of heels closing in, still doing it as Neo comes into the light and starts down the stairs into the alcove. She strides right up to the table, face neutral, and doesn't look at either of them until she tosses something heavy on the table between them. A mostly fresh, reptilian limb covered in golden scales, tufts of yellow fur and sprigs of black pinfeathers, and missing all five talons.

Cinder stares at it momentarily, then meets Neo's gaze. "Still not talking?"

Neo shakes her head. Then she signs, her expression tightening a little. _Bitch bit me._

Emerald has to physically catch her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing, while Cinder simply shrugs, slumping in her chair with resignation. Then her brow furrows and she goes quiet, her eyes closing. Perhaps a minute passes before they open again, appearing to glow with a noticeable intensity. "We need to go about this another way..." Because Yang only had so many body parts left, and Cinder had only so much patience.

Emerald's expression quirks, curious, more so over Cinder's words than the severed limb her gaze is fixed on. "Even with her powers bound, there's only so much we can do." She chances to reach out and take the arm in both hands, marveling at the cool, metallic softness of the scales.

"Give me a moment." and for that time Cinder watches the flames in the fireplace, feeling like it will help her focus. There's a loud snap from the hearth that coincides with Cinder's gaze shifting to Emerald. "How long until the ritual is finished?"

"A few hours more, maybe."

Then Cinder looks to Neo, shifting in her seat. "Keep the Dragon awake, I don't care how, and I want you to make it as unpleasant for her as possible."

Neo signs, looking offended. _No more blood?_

"No, just keep her conscious by whatever manner pleases you. I'll join you when I'm ready."

Neo frowns, making certain to maintain eye contact with Cinder, make sure she _knows_ she isn't happy, before the changeling turns and starts out of the alcove the way she had come. Both of the other women watch her go, wincing a little when Neo slams the door behind her as she leaves.

"You're going to have to make it up to her after that one." Emerald laughs. "You don't mind if I use this, do you?"

Cinder looks at her other associate and recognizes what she's talking about. "Of course not, knock yourself out."

Emerald smiles in a genuinely grateful way. "So what are you thinking?"

"Once I'm more awake," Cinder shifts in her seat again, straightening. "I want you to do a mind scry."

"On who?"

"Me."

Emerald blinks, noticeably surprised. "...Why?"

"You need to know some things before we move on, and you need to know them as well as _I do_ if this is going to work."

"I mean, as long as you're sure,"

"I am. I trust you." she gives Emerald a rare smile, a gesture that's returned.

"You're probably the only one."

"And that's simply _tragic_." and while Cinder's tone sounds somewhat facetious, she's actually sincere to a point. "But we'll be able to rectify that soon enough."

 _(II)_

It's a rare occasion that Taiyang doesn't know exactly where he's headed when he blinks out en route from one place to another, but considering his hurry he allowed himself a little faith. The energy pulling him along felt familiar, and he found some confidence in that, otherwise he has no expectations as to what awaits him at the far end of the magical tether.

What he finds, initially, is a wash of white made almost harsh by sunlight coming in through an unnecessarily tall window. He blinks his vision clear as his golden aura dissipates and allows him to see where he is, his gaze almost immediately falling on the source of incredible, frigid energy that he's suddenly, jarringly aware of. Panic lances through him for a split second, a common reaction for any magical being that comes into contact with a White Witch -and not just any White Witch, but the one and only Willow Schnee. Pale blue eyes meet his as she sits with an immaculate porcelain teacup cradled in her hands, her legs crossed, statuesque in a staggeringly colorless suit that looked more at home in an office than this parlor. At the Witch's feet is a massive snow leopard, her companion, Tanta, the cat's eyes matching her mistress' as they stare at him as well.

Across from Willow is Weiss, a familiar face that only brings the Dragon marginal comfort -Tai had always been unsettled by how Willow's daughters so uncannily resembled her. She sits facing her mother, also with a teacup between her hands though it rests on the small table between them. Her eyes are on him too, but not with the naked envy of a White Witch in the presence of something she wants to control. It's more restrained hope.

Tai only feels welcome when he realizes Blake Belladonna is in the room as well, shocked he hadn't seen her first considering she was the only dark thing in the room. He sees the string of beans in her hands, recognizes them as the ones he had given her, and the last of his tension eases. However that says little in regards to his confusion; his current audience vaguely reminds him of a bad joke.

"Lord Xiaolong," Willow's voice is soft but it carries across the room, "welcome."

"Thank you." his response is reflexive and tinged with wariness. "Blake? Girls, what's going on?"

Weiss stands up as Blake starts towards him, the Faunus reaching into one of her many utility pouches to return the beads to their hiding place.

"Qrow was in Menagerie a couple days ago and asked about Yang," Blake begins, "he told me what was going on and my mom was able to convince Sienna to let me look into it myself."

"Oh?"

Blake nods, she and Weiss both standing before him now. "I started by retracing Qrow's steps and went right to Junior's."

Tai's first reaction is to question her, but holds his tongue as Blake's hand comes back into view still holding something. Initially it looks like just a piece of paper.

"I felt something was off the second I walked through the door, so I jumped the counter and headed for Junior's safe."

"I'm surprised you're still in one piece after that."

"I wouldn't be if he had caught me." Blake half chuckles, unfolding what turns out to be a Lien bill and handing it forward. "I don't recognize the script of the seal, so I thought Madam Willow or Weiss might know, but no dice. You were my next choice."

Tai nods and takes the note, flipping it over to see the dark crimson glyph written on the back. It took only a second for Taiyang to recognize it, never mind that he can't actually read it. Almost no one in the cosmos can. Still, he knows what it is and knows why Qrow never would have picked up on it.

"What is it?" Weiss asks.

"It's an oblivium glyph." he answers immediately. "Did you ask Junior anything about Yang after you picked this up?"

"N-no," Blake's ears flit back, "I didn't think to, I didn't know what it was."

"It's okay, but you might want to. If Yang was there, he'll remember it now, might even remember who she left with if anyone."

"Right, I'll be right back." and before he can offer a word to her, she blinks out of sight in a wisp of shadows.

Weiss is looking at Tai who is still staring holes into the bill in his hands. "How could Qrow not have felt that?"

"Because his kind isn't allowed to, it's written in Malphesis." he sees the confusion flicker across the younger woman's face. "Long story."

" _Most_ _anyone_ isn't allowed to." Willow adds. "But that leads one to wonder how it got on that Lien, seeing as there's only one complete cipher in existence, and access to said cipher is _strictly_ controlled by the Hunt." She sounds both intrigued and smug, and her familiar somehow mimics the expression on her mistress' face perfectly. Must be a cat thing.

"I know." Tai shrugs. "Raven's not going to be happy to hear this."

Weiss crosses her arms, brow knitting gently. "Maybe she'll do something about it now."

Tai looks up, seemingly shocked, then chuckles reservedly. Part of him wants to openly agree with her, but another part feels guilty; surely Weiss only knows what Yang had elected to tell her about Raven, and that had likely led to a certain bias. "She won't have much choice after seeing this, especially if it matches the one Coco found. And if Blake manages to find anything..."

Which she does, more than Taiyang could have hoped, but it brings him no joy. Even now when they have a name, a face, and a trace of Yang that they might be able to follow, he can only scowl.

Because he knows the name _Cinder Fall_ , as does Raven, and he knows it will draw her fury like nothing else ever could.

 _(III)_

Jaune takes care to go about his evening routine as quietly as possible, the twins finally down for the night. Like most babies they would wake at even the slightest _notion_ of a noise, and that had only marginally improved over the last several months since they came home, so everyone in the house would all but hover over the floor -though Nora and Ren actually could if they chose to- to avoid any undue sounds.

He washes his face, mindful of the splashing water and the running faucet, same goes for when he brushes his teeth. He'll tiptoe out of the bathroom and the short few feet across the hall to his and Pyrrha's bedroom. He isn't surprised to find the lights inside already out, blinking as he oh so carefully closes the door behind him to swaddle himself in darkness.

"Hello again." comes a soft, familiar greeting.

"Hey." Jaune smiles, he always smiles when she says that. "Need anything before I join you?"

"Just for you to take your clothes off."

"Oh, well, since you asked so nicely." he gives a breathy chuckle, still grinning as he manages out of his shirt and boxers. He tosses his clothes aide, aiming in the vague direction of the hamper he knows is there somewhere. He makes his way to the bed and feels around for Pyrrha with his hands before climbing in.

Jaune knew by her tone of voice that she wasn't interested -presently- in sex, which he didn't mind at all. No, all his wife wanted at the moment was skin-to-skin contact and his closeness that he is more than happy to provide. He'll find the pillows piled up against the headboard and nestle into the midst of them, Pyrrha holding his hand the entire time before she crawls between his thighs and settles there. His loins throb once, twice, but how couldn't they when his wife is so soft and warm and perfect, and right here without so much as a thread between the two of them.

With a sigh of contentment Pyrrha's back lines up with Jaune's bare chest, his heat passing into her and bringing a body wide comfort as the blankets are pulled up. She knows she needs this, and it had been that way since before they were even properly mated. These days she needed it more often, and unlike before she _had_ to have it less she become noticeably irritable, even aggressive. No one wanted that, especially now with the pups, so Pyrrha and Jaune made certain to keep a routine.

Jaune kisses the top of her head once his arms are around her, Pyrrha turning to return the gesture to his lips. Their foreheads touch, their noses, she takes in his scent and kisses him again. His hands gently rub down her arms and up over her belly -over the half there furrows of stretchmarks that fondly remind him she's in some way human-, over her breasts, and does so in a repeated pattern for a moment.

"Was that Gypsy on the phone earlier?" Pyrrha asks, enjoying the feel of his hands.

"Yeah, she's back at the Warren now and everything seems peaceful on the extended family front. Still wouldn't tell me why she had to see Maab so suddenly, though."

"Hm." Pyrrha nuzzles a little closer, until his chin lifts so she can tuck her head beneath it. "Is she still okay with taking the twins?"

"Mm-hm, said she'll take them after the studio closes tomorrow." he smiles to himself and sighs. "Then it's just the two of us."

"You sound awfully excited to get away from the girls," she hopes the little laugh covers up her unfounded anxiety.

"Not at all. You know I love them, love being with them, but I miss you sometimes. I miss _us_ , and I just want _us_ for a couple days."

Pyrrha doesn't respond right away, shifting in his embrace to turn further into him, almost on her stomach. She listens to his heartbeat, counts it for a few seconds. "Of course, I'm...I'm sorry. I know you'd never feel that way."

"It's all right." his hand starts in smooth lines down her back now. His brow scrunches a little. "Are you okay?"

"...I think so?" though she's clearly uncertain. "Do _you_ think I'm okay?" she chuckles a little, amused by the absurdity she found in the question.

Jaune laughs softly in return. "I mean, you've seemed a bit...it's obvious something's bugging you -something _other_ than mom having the girls."

"Hmm...no, I'm pretty sure that's the only thing."

"You don't sound pretty sure."

"...I'm so transparent." she shrugs, hiding her face in his chest with a playful sounding whimper.

"Hey now, talk to me."

Pyrrha laughs breathily, stalling for time as she tries to find the words. "You know, let's just go to sleep."

She feels his arms snake around her, tightening gently and one hand cupping her shoulder to keep her in place.

"Please, love, tell me what's going on."

The soft concern in his voice hits her like a brick, making her whole body yield to him. She relaxes again and he takes her weight without complaint, the security of her mate's presence suddenly more potent than her ill at ease. Pyrrha lets him stroke her back a little longer, searching for the right words once more.

"It's...just a feeling. It's silly."

"No it's not." he assures her in a gentle, well practiced way. "Come on."

She takes a breath and lets it out, cheeks puffing. "It's like something is just...hanging over me. I don't know what to call it. Then again," she laughs at herself, "it could just be my anxiety as usual."

"Well, for the sake of the argument, let's pretend it isn't. Any idea why you feel this way?"

"Not really, no."

"Has it been going on for a while?"

"A few days."

"And it has nothing to do with mom?"

"...Don't think so."

Jaune thinks for a moment, quiet, kissing the top of her head a time or two as the minutes tick by. "Maybe it's about time you talk to a doctor? Maybe the pregnancy changed some stuff."

Pyrrha hates the sound of that somehow, in a way she can't explain, and it only makes that nameless peril in her mind seem that much bigger. "Maybe." she eventually says, her throat sounding a little tight. "Maybe."

"First thing Monday I'll get you an appointment set up, we can go together. Would that be okay with you?"

"Yeah, I guess." her response is a cynical sigh. She feels the gentle press of his hand along her jaw, encouraging her to look up at him, and even though it's almost pitch black, she can see him almost as well as if it were the middle of the day.

"Everything will turn out all right, I'm sure of it." Then he gives her a little kiss on the nose, and then the lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Pyrrha will fall asleep without realizing it, unknowing of how much time passed between Jaune speaking and her own snoring. But they hang in her mind as she dreams easily.

Everything will turn out all right.

Author's Note: It's shorter than the others, yeah, but I feel pretty okay about it. The plot's about to kick off, so either the next chapter or the one after is where we're going to see all the shit I've been shoveling hit the fan. Exciting, right? Thanks to everyone who comments, they've been really helpful, catch you all later!


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

 _As a quick note, Yang is actually MUCH older in this AU, though Ruby's age is roughly the same as canon. Carry on._

Eons ago, back when the humans of Remnant were still scratching their sloped heads about what rocks were for, there was a Daemon named Malphas. The Patriarch of the Malphesian race, his knowledge of the cosmos and its magical workings were second nearly to none. The Father of Crows created his kind's own alphabet, Malphesis, with the intent of increasing his own power as well as keeping his kind's secrets that much further away from prying eyes. He was able to compile a single cipher before the Powers that Be found out, and they determined that just by the virtue of its existence, the cipher greatly threatened the cosmic balance.

Zerline herself handed down the edict, the Powers stripping all Malphesians of the ability to ever read the cipher or learn the written language to begin with, with the exception of Malphas. He was charged with maintaining the balance he so carelessly attempted to disrupt, and carried out the order by forming the Wild Hunt -to keep his word, both literal and figurative.

Now Raven, his direct descendant, stands in what was once his private chambers, staring with hauntingly similar eyes at ancient symbols she both does and doesn't recognize. Like Taiyang, she can't read them, but unlike him, she doesn't recognize it as anything in particular, and will forget all about it the moment it's out of her sight. That's how the magic works; all memory of it is freshly stricken from her mind the second it's acquired, vanishing as if it never was. But the fury certainly doesn't. The rage she feels right now will keep like a curse as her stomach churns and her jaw clenches slowly tighter, her molars creaking. With her arms crossed and a heavy scowl on her face, she lets her mind run rampant over all the new evidence she's been given. She finds a little comfort in believing that Qrow is doing the same, as his pose and expression are identical to her own. And, strangely, there's some consolation in Taiyang's presence too.

Eventually, after a tense, long silence, Raven's eyes lift -the sigils gone from her brain like a dream. "Coco confirmed the description Junior gave to the Shadowmancer?"

"Yes." Qrow nods once.

Raven's body expands and contracts heavily, as if breathing is like pulling against the world, and her exhale is a sound of resignation. "So Cinder lives."

"...Do you believe it's all connected now?" Tai has to ask, he had to hear her say it.

Another shrug, this one softer to get around the crow the Huntmaster is trying to swallow. "I do. The pieces fit together too well."

"So what's our next step?" Qrow loosens his posture, puts his hands behind him. "The Midden is closed off."

"I know. Is Glynda Goodwitch still on this plane?"

"Last I checked."

"See if she can do anything to help us open the gate, it's a long shot, but we can't risk overlooking any solution."

"What happened to the Gatekeeper?"

"She disappeared, but it would be better to consider it an abduction at this point, and Shaman Tanka has been after her for nigh on two years now. In any case, Cinder knows what she's doing, and her first step would have been to secure a safe zone."

"So she shut off an entire plane." Taiyang nods. "Then she took the Cornerstone."

"And I don't think we need to keep waiting for Oz's head to grow back to confirm that, but that's just my opinion." Qrow adds, and he looks to see both of them staring back at him, seemingly unreceptive to his attempt at humor. He's thankful they just return to the matter at hand.

"She must think Yang can tell her where the Scribe is." Tai continues. "Gods have mercy,"

"She's near the top of a very short list of anyone who could. But...until we can access The Midden again, there's next to nothing we can do."

The three of them look between each other, a brief and tense second, then Qrow nods. "I'll go spread the word to the rest of the Hunt, and Sienna while I'm at it."

"Good idea, and do your damnedest to track down another Gatekeeper, if there is one to be found. Happy hunting."

Qrow is gone from the room without another word, leaving behind only the echo of the heavy wood and iron door swinging open and clattering shut. Raven noticed all too quickly that her brother had taken some of her own comfort with him, and now she finds Taiyang more of a burden to share a space with. Just him being here makes her feel guilty, accused of several things.

"How can I help?" he asks softly. He knows she's feeling something less than at ease now, senses it like static as he always could. His sensitivity to her was one of the things that had drawn them together, once upon a time, because she guards herself too well and refuses to feel vulnerable; with him, she never had to.

Taiyang watches her staring at the floor, brow furrowed tightly, and her fingers curl slowly into her biceps. She's trying to swallow it all down, shove it into a place where it can't touch her.

"Raven,"

"Don't." she flinches, physically retreating. "Please don't."

Sympathy softens his face further, if that's even possible. "It's-,"

"You think I'm terrible, don't you?" she doesn't look at him, but manages to loosen the grip on herself and straightens. "Because I made us all wait and see."

"That's not your fault. You have a duty to uphold."

"At the cost of my own flesh and blood? And so easily too," the breathy laugh she adds to the statement is bitter, sardonic. "I know you think I don't care, but-,"

"That's not true." he cuts in. "I've never thought that."

"Still...Cinder is going to kill her. I know it. Just like she..." Raven swallows hard, trying to stop what would have been tears if Daemons could cry. "...S-Summer,"

He shouldn't, Tai knows he shouldn't because of her damnable pride, but at the moment he doesn't much care. He steps forward, meaning to ask forgiveness instead of permission as he chances to put his arms around her. Imagine his shock when she accepts, at least, accepts in a way that is uniquely her own. She doesn't reciprocate, but doesn't resist either, and tucks into his chest as if to hide.

Raven remembers this feeling, this sense of closeness and safety, and for a moment it's ages ago when they first met, when they were both young and stupid compared to the present. Back when the four of them, including Qrow and Summer, were something resembling friends; before becoming Huntmaster, before the impossible miracle of her own pregnancy, before _Cinder Fall_...

"Yang is going to die and it's my fault." She shudders in his arms with a curt gasp for breath.

"Don't sell Yang so short, she's tough, just like you. We'll find her." Tai does his best even though he knows she doesn't believe him. She's a natural born pessimist. "We're going to do everything we can, maybe even a few things we can't, and we'll bring her home." But he doesn't dare make a promise, not when even he -a living manifestation of Luck itself- isn't sure of the odds.

Raven has to push away, she won't let herself get too comfortable, and she's grateful that he lets her put space between them. "Cinder is going to be a step ahead of everything we do, she knows how the Hunt operates."

"Then we need to step faster, maybe get more feet on the ground, as it were." He chances a smirk with a lilt of his head. "I could...I can get the Mistrali cabals together, and I could ask Gypsy to spread the word in Vale, then there's Willow if she isn't doing that already -Kali too, for that matter. Sienna has connections in Vacuo and Qrow is already on his way to see her."

Raven's hands are fists at her sides, but not tight ones. Her scowl is tighter as she thinks and stares at the floor, her mind too busy to contain as she hisses "But is it _enough_?"

Part of Tai feels the question is rhetorical, because Raven has a tendency to do that when she's stressed or feels lost, which he wholly understands. But another part of him, the part that is still attuned to her, knows she's sincere. She really doesn't know what else to do.

"Have a little faith." He says finally, gently because he knows she hates to hear it. "And I know once you're able to move forward, you will. Gods help whoever is in your way when that happens."

By some strange twist of fate, Raven smiles. A little kink of a thing, but Tai knows what it is. For a brief second Raven wants to tell him she still loves him, that a part of her wants to try _them_ again because it's obvious he still knows her like no one else does. But the Huntmaster pushes that down just as she had before, letting him have her little smirk and nothing more.

 _(II)_

Schnees are notorious, in both the mundane and the supernatural communities, for taking matters into their own hands, so one could easily imagine the almost smug pride on Willow's face when Weiss suggested as much in regards to Yang's disappearance. Weiss is in no way content to just stand by and wait for the Hunt to get it's act together, and, though she felt the need to caution her daughter for the sake of her own responsibility to the cosmic balance, Willow wholeheartedly agreed.

"Going over Raven's head will likely get the Powers' eyes on you, but I'd imagine they would make an exception if you can keep the Cornerstone from being misused." Willow strides unhurriedly but with purpose through the family manor, Weiss on her left and Tanta padding along on her right. Blake is just behind Weiss, ears back with unease.

"I'm having a rather difficult time caring at the moment, mother. Besides," determination furrows her brow, "unless I threaten some cosmic law or another, the Huntmaster can't stop me."

"True enough." Willow's smiling again, and Tanta rumbles softly. "Do you feel the same way, Blake?"

The Faunus' ears flit upward, mildly surprised at being addressed; Blake could count on one hand how many times her and Willow had spoken before. "I do. I'd do anything for Yang, but I'm sure you understand I would much rather Raven _not_ find out that we're basically giving her the middle finger."

"Hah! Indeed! Though giving the Huntmaster _the bird_ would be absolutely priceless!"

Weiss rolls her eyes; clearly her mother and Yang had been spending far too much time together. But the frustration morphs into a sort of dread, and all of a sudden her thoughts do a one-eighty and she's praying they will get to spend more time together.

Willow leads them through the house, to the far end of the second floor. Blake can feel the energy shifting around them, the fur on her ears bristling as she acknowledges a supernatural pitch in the air. It gains weight by degrees, every step bringing the three of them to its source until Willow pushes through a pair of wooden doors that groan open.

The Schnee Cabal is, at present, one of the only groups that have tempted the results of melding magic with technology, so Willow's archive is not much at all like one would expect a Witch's to look like. It's pristine, sterile, and in place of bookshelves there is a collection of servers and digital storage units. All of them lead up to a single terminal equipped with several monitors and a console that looked more appropriate for an aircraft considering all the dials and buttons and things. Willow only has to snap her fingers for the terminal to switch on, at least one of the servers starting to hum as the screens fill the room with a faint blue light.

Willow taps a selection of keys with one hand, still half facing her daughter. "You know what you need to do Weiss, so I'll leave you to it while I arrange some provisions for you both."

"I was hoping we wouldn't be staying in The Midden very long." the tension Blake feels is almost audible. Traveling through the shadows across Remnant is one thing, but planeswalking?

"Assuming we can get there at all? Taiyang said whatever is going on there is blocking _Gypsy_ ," Weiss chimes in as she now stands before the cluster of monitors, one of her hands moving to a roller on the console made of pearly glass. With it she starts cycling through files, knowing what she's looking for.

"But Gypsy Arc, Powers preserve her, doesn't love Yang like you do." Willow's expression suddenly shifts. "Unless something has changed since her husband died?"

Weiss has to stop and think, blinking at the screen before responding. "Not that I know of." Then she shakes her head, trying to chase the very idea from her mind. "Here it is."

"Better get started then, before your sister comes looking for you." Because one would be hard pressed to find a Sentinel more dedicated to their duty than Winter.

Weiss only nods, unconsciously listening to the sound of her mother's heels as she leaves the archive. On the screen is a digital replica of the planar sigil for The Midden, identical to the one on Zerline's Atlas; Weiss hits a few more keys, the image on the monitor shuddering as the screen manages to project the emblem onto the middle of the floor just behind her.

Blake cautiously approaches, trying to swallow a touch of shock at witnessing this. Again, magic and tech rarely mix even today. "Is this going to work?"

"We're not using it to travel, it's so I can recreate the seal quicker." Weiss explains. "You have something of hers, don't you? Something Yang gave you?"

"Yeah." Blake just nods, eyes averted for a split second as a slight redness tinged her face. "You?"

Without thinking Weiss reaches up with one hand, touching the lobe of one ear and the strangely warm surface of her earring: a golden scale. Each of them carried a piece of her, something intimate that would allow Weiss to hone in on Yang even from a plane away.

Blake nods again. "You've planeswalked before, right?"

"Admittedly, it's not my strong suit, but yes." and she sounds like she's not just trying to convince Blake, but herself as well.

"I still don't see how this is going to work." Blake is shaking her head, still staring at the mark on the floor. "How can you do something the Hunt can't?"

"I don't know." Weiss shrugs. "But I have to try. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky." and she tries a chuckle, hoping to ease some tension but feeling like she fails miserably when Blake just looks at her. She wavers. "I-I better get started."

For a moment Blake just watches her, partly mesmerized by Weiss' hand moving a piece of chalk across the floor under the guiding light of the projector. Then she shakes it from her head. "Can I do anything to help?"

"Have you ever been to the Midden before?"

"No. Have you?"

"I'm afraid it was... _some_ time ago, and it was only for a moment really. I was just learning to planeswalk," she pauses to stretch and complete the first of several circles. "But I have been there."

Blake crosses her arms and smirks. "Oh yeah, aren't you a prodigy who learned to planeswalk before her tenth birthday?"

Weiss pauses again, her hand stilling as well. "Seventh."

"Ah, my mistake."

"In any case," Weiss starts again, beginning to outline the lunar moth of the sigil, "the Midden is mostly old growth forest, not unlike Mistral. You've been there, right?"

"Frequently."

"Then, depending on where we come out - _if_ we can even get _in_ \- it will be _just_ like Mistral."

"And if we don't?"

"We'll figure it out." She uses the edge of one finger to adjust an uneven line. "In any case, you can use the console there to access a map of the plane, at least get yourself somewhat familiar with it."

Blake lifts her eyes to the nest of screens, her ears twitching. "Almost need a map just to navigate _this_." All the same she approaches it, hesitating but a moment before she hits a couple keys. It takes some doing, and few huffs of frustration, but eventually she finds what she's looking for and starts to study the digitally recreated image of an ancient map on one of the other screens.

Once Weiss has finished she'll come to stand beside Blake, refreshing her own memory of the place, rattling off several strings of information when Blake asks for them. The Midden is the home plane for most if not all Fae folk, even those that dwell on Remnant can trace their lines back to it. It's a place of mystery and incredible risk, something as simple as introducing yourself could land you in serious trouble, but it is also a plane of wondrous beauty. However, the one time Weiss had visited the Midden as a child had been part of tradition, where she added her name to a longstanding treaty between White Witches and the Fae that had ended centuries of callous hunting of other magical creatures native to the plane, so she didn't have much time to really appreciate it.

But she's confident that her memory of the trip is mostly intact, which is more than Blake had to work with for the time being.

 _Oh gods, I'm leading my girlfriend's girlfriend to -likely- rescue my girlfriend._ The reality hits the young Witch like a house, and as much as she hates using that euphemism, it's the only way she knows how to accurately describe the feeling. She and Blake were, by no means, estranged, but they certainly aren't as close as they were to Yang. Something about being the authority on this matter just didn't feel right, would Blake trust her?

"I can _hear_ you worrying." Blake says softly, eyes still trained on the screen.

"Schnees do not _worry_ , they calculate risk." Willow announces as she comes strolling back into the room. "Now, my dear, I've packed you both enough rations for about a week, though I pray you won't have to be gone that long. If you should run out, however, _do_ be careful when you're foraging." Because the last thing she needed was her daughter becoming Fae.

Weiss straightens and brushes any creases out of her clothes, waiting for her mother to come close enough before accepting one of the backpacks Willow carried. "Yes, mother, of course."

Willow nods, her eyes set with a touch of resigned concern. She'll pass the other pack to Blake, "Also," and then half turn to Tanta, the snow leopard standing beside her with something in her mouth, "I think you'll need this."

Weiss' eyes steadily widen as her mother takes the heavy, leather clad length of a sword from her familiar, letting the weapon rest in both hands as she presents it forward. "M-Myrtenaster...you think I'm ready?"

"I do. And I think the only reason I hadn't done this sooner is because I didn't see the need. Matters never seemed this serious before." When Weiss takes the sword her hands fold in front of her. "I don't know who this Cinder Fall is, but I mean to take Lord Xiao Long's reaction to her mention as a word of warning. I want to make sure you're prepared."

For a moment Weiss is too awestruck to speak; she can count on one hand the number of times she had been able to lay hands on it, and now her mother was passing it on to her. Myrtenaster has been in the Schnee Family since...forever? It was made before the Schnee name even existed, so who knew for sure? In any case, this, to Weiss, is a huge responsibility, but also an incredible honor and show of trust. She manages to swallow down the butterflies and look her mother in the eye. "I'll do my best, I won't disappoint you."

"I should be the _last_ person you're concerned with pleasing." Willow chuckles, controlling the urge to feel like this is indeed all about _her_ -Schnees can be a vain bunch sometimes. "This isn't about me, or the company, or the cabal...it's about the woman you love."

Weiss blushes a little, not caring that her mother can likely see the red splotches forming on her cheeks.

"Bring your sunshine home," Willow steps forward, putting her hands beneath Weiss' as they continue to hold Myrtenaster, her fingers forming around to supplement her daughter's grip. "And if this Cinder Fall, or anyone else, has caused Yang _any_ suffering," That quiet concern suddenly morphs, the pale iciness of Willow's eyes suddenly so vibrant, "see to it that you repay it threefold."

"I will, mother."

Willow will watch with visible pride, Tanta beside her replicating the expression in her own way, as Weiss leads Blake to stand within the circle of the sigil on the floor. They face each other, holding hands as is often the way of things with magic, and the Schnee Matriarch feels the pitch in energy in the room that coincides with the images on the still working monitors to scramble. The air in the room starts to stir, spinning in little gusts at first, and then begins to whistle with steadily growing force. The seal beneath their feet flickers and flares, then glows in a kaleidoscope of gold and green.

Weiss almost immediately senses resistance; once her powers reach out it is quickly repulsed. But she keeps pushing. Magic rebounds and crackles along her nerves, borderline painful, but she refuses to retreat. With one last heave of her very soul, focusing on the faint glimmer of Yang in the ether, the invisible path from Remnant to The Midden opens to her, and a column of light erupts from the seal that swallows her and Blake whole.

 _(III)_

She hadn't been sleeping, but she had been in bed. Cinder had been lounging comfortably against a literal pile of pillows, Emerald's cold blooded self tucked against her, when an incredible pain ripped through her. Cinder jackknifes off the bed and tumbles to the stone floor with a tearing shriek, the marks hidden in her skin glowing to searing brilliance and even hissing as coils of steam rise from the seals carved along the length of her spine. But it isn't heat Cinder feels, it's a chill more frigid than the touch of Death itself, and it's so cold it _burns_.

Even with all the commotion, Emerald is slow to fully wake -her kind is like that, some losing centuries to a nap. But once her awareness is in full swing she's up and out of bed in a flash, rounding quickly to the far side to where Cinder lay, now face up and spreadeagled, panting heavily through a clenched jaw of tusks and fangs, her eyes wide with pain and shock as they smolder with a solid gold fury that's only begun to build.

At first, Emerald isn't sure what to do. "C-Cinder,"

" _Shirt_." she hisses forcefully.

Emerald scrambles to find her clothes, snatching what she hopes is a shirt off the floor and bringing it to her. Stiffly Cinder rolls onto her elbows and knees, her head still hanging as she whips out her hand and takes the garment Emerald offers. Smoke is starting to coil around her teeth when she gets to her feet, jerking the tunic over her head. Emerald will watch her skulk out of the room with a startling grace, swallowing loud enough to hear once she's out of sight. Gods above, she is _so_ angry.

Cinder will remain on this floor, stalking the halls like a blooded hound, still golden eyes set forward and lips twisted into a tusky snarl. The sigils on her body are still livid, lighting the night-dimmed corridor, and her frame throbs with both rage and pain, and those feelings only surge as she nears her destination. The closed, heavy wooden door she finds is no match for her anger, and blasts apart under the impact of her fist. The lanterns in the room are lit, meaning the occupant is awake, and the once calm flames within the iron and glass flare and growl in Cinder's presence. And there in the roiling glow beside the lone and simple bed, is a Faunus woman trembling in her nightclothes.

" _You useless scrap of manimal_ _ **trash**_!" Cinder bellows as she advances, the glow of a bonfire in her throat and morphing her voice with rumbles and crackling sparks. " _What made you think I wouldn't fucking feel it_?!" And she punctuates the question with a hard swing of her hand, her knuckles connecting with cheekbone and sending the other woman to the floor.

Cinder looms over her, still fuming, smoke rising to the ceiling and filling the room with the pungency of ash and brimstone. With a snap of her fangs Cinder snatches a handful of cloth and hoists the dazed woman just enough to have proper leverage to lay a couple more solid blows to her face, the last one resounding with a wet pop and the snap of bone.

"You _dare_ let a _**Schnee**_ cross over onto _my plane_?!" When she doesn't get an answer quick enough, Cinder hoists her up and puts her hard to the nearest wall. "You better have a _**damn**_ good explanation, or I'm going to turn that lovely tail of yours into an _otter skin purse_." And, truthfully, the low register of that last threat is somehow more terrifying than the screaming.

Tag sputters on the blood in her mouth, trying to suppress it as best she can so it doesn't get on Cinder and earn her another round of beating. "I f-felt it too. Tried to stop it, but there's only so much I can do against planeswalking. I _swear_ I _tried_." she whimpers, tears starting roll down her bruised cheeks. " _I swear._ "

Cinder knows she isn't lying, knows she can't, but that does nothing to smother her anger. Her eyes narrow, nostrils flaring as she exhales and unleashes a fresh cloud of smoke and embers. "You are. _So_. _**Lucky**_ that you're still useful to me."

Tag doesn't dare respond, even if she had something to say she wouldn't have the guts to let it out. Not when Cinder's glowing like a furnace, all eyes and teeth, and looking to have her horns starting to push up through her hair.

"This _won't_ happen again." Cinder growls slowly.

Tag shakes her head quickly, hoping it's enough of an answer to satisfy her, almost relieved when Cinder looses her grip and lets her hit the floor. Tag flinches away when Cider turns and stalks back the way she had come, lingering in the doorway to say one last thing. "Don't sleep too soundly, I'll have work for you soon."

This time she just nods, chin tucked and eyes shut, unable to open them until Cinder is gone. She'll flinch again when she hears the harsh echo of Cinder screaming in the hallway for Emerald.

Emerald is hopping as fast as she can in an attempt to pull up her pants and not fall flat on her face at the same time as heeding Cinder's summons. When she catches up Cinder simply walks on, expecting her to follow.

"There's a Schnee in The Midden." Cinder seethes, though she sounds to be calming a little.

" _Oh_." she feels a surge of heat across her skin and suddenly can't keep her eyes anywhere but on the floor ahead of her. "Any idea which one?"

"Doesn't matter, she dies." Cinder says succinctly. "Send Adam."

Emerald feels the small hairs on her neck bristle. "A-alright...now?"

" _Obviously_. Then meet me in the tower."

Emerald nods once, and the two will part ways in the stairwell at the end of the corridor.

Outside the fortress, along it's north wall, the Wraith materializes out of nowhere, creating its usual mercury silhouette. It lingers there, just outside the glow of the rampart torchlight, appearing to look out over the forested valley that surrounds the place. Then, without prompting, it descends the wall and drifts across the grounds to disappear into the trees.

 _(-)_

"Weiss? Weiss, c'mon, get up."

It sounds like a distant echo, but she understands. She understands that she doesn't like the sound of it as it feels like it's rattling her eardrums and making her brain burn. As more of her senses come into focus the less she wants them too, feeling a dull crackle of pain beneath her skin as her body bows in on itself.

"Weiss, _please_ , we can't stay here." there it is again, making her ears ring. "Don't make me carry you."

There's a hand, Weiss' feels it's weight and with it a shock of static intense enough to make her body jerk. Her arm swings wide, warding off, and though her jaw doesn't move she tries to speak.

"Shit." Blake hisses. She wishes they could wait, but it's night; the forest surrounding them is alive with creatures she can't name, and they just happened to come through right in the middle of an obvious circle of large, spotted mushrooms. Blake has never been here, but she knows damn good and well you don't fuck around in Fairy Rings. "I'm sorry."

Being a Faunus allows her to see well enough to crouch down and start gathering the smaller Witch into her arms, finding Weiss surprisingly light. But she won't settle to have both of her hands occupied with weight, and so ducks her head and swings upward, Weiss' waist bending across the back of her neck with a reactionary grunt of discomfort. " _I'm sorry_." Blake repeats, hooking her arm behind one of Weiss knees and then reaching across her own chest to grab one dainty feeling wrist.

Carefully, so carefully, Blake tiptoes outside the circle and walks on, mindful of not looking back. She'll keep her eyes on the ground ahead, on the lookout for more because she knows they tend to cluster, and the longer she goes without seeing more, the more confident she feels to stretch out with her Shadowmancy. It lets her feel the layout of the woods, not just see, and allows for quicker, surer movement. Blake lets the shadows guide her to where the trees break up and open to the edge of a river at the foot of a waterfall too tall to see the top of. It's far enough from the rings that she no longer feels the buzz of their energy against her felid ears, so she feels comfortable enough to stop.

"Please...down." Weiss groans. "Throw up."

Blake heeds the warning as quickly as she can, not wanting a stripe of vomit down her back. She helps Weiss to her feet, then down to sit in the grass by the water. She waits, ears folded back to muffle the sounds she hates -sounds that, thankfully, never come.

Weiss holds her head in her hands, swaying even as she sits still. Finally she takes a composing breath. "Ow."

"Are you going to be okay?"

" _Ugh_ , momentarily. That was...something."

"What happened?"

Weiss rubs her face hard with both hands before lifting her head and clearing her throat. "Two things; one is that _someone_ was pushing back, and the second was a Gate Ward. Felt like being pushed through a cheese grater."

Blake cringes, her ears tilting out to the sides. "Can I do anything?"

"Mother didn't happen to pack us any aspirin, did she?"

"Let me check."

Weiss doesn't like being jerked as Blake elects to search her pack, but let's it slide as she simply doesn't have it in her to complain.

"Um..."

"What?"

"Does...a bag of salt mean anything to you?"

"Oh, yes, I need that too." Weiss nods and angles her hand back as a request for it to be passed to her. "I don't have the strength to put up a circle right now, so this will keep us safe while we rest a while.

"Got it." Witchcraft isn't her forte, so Blake just accepts it. "And here's your aspirin."

"Thank goodness." She happily takes the bottle, giving it a reassuring shake before uncapping it a tipping back head to help her swallow a pair of tablets. Without having to ask, Blake passes her a bottle water, taking it with a quiet thank you. After that she takes a moment to simply sit, gather herself back together and settle, before carefully standing up.

Blake watches her, initially curious to what she's up to, but the interest fades as Weiss opens the satchel of salt and starts pouring it out on the ground. She'll make a complete circle around them, just wide enough for them to be able to lie down without worry of breaking the barrier. Blake had heard of this before, unable to remember where or when, but she had also heard that circles like these were old wives tales and didn't actually work. But this was Weiss, if it didn't work, she wouldn't be using it. When she's done, Weiss flops back down to the patch of grass where she had been.

"Can you take first watch?" and the request is riddled with a whimper.

"I was going to." Blake smirks. "Get some sleep, princess."

Weiss situates her backpack just so, using it as a pillow as she settles further down and on her side. The grass is surprisingly soft. "Only Yang calls me that."

"I know. It's cute, it suits you."

"I was more stating a fact. In other words, I'd prefer it if _only Yang calls me that_."

"Ah. My apologies."

"...I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to sound so snappy."

"You're exhausted, I get it, don't worry about it."

"It," Weiss pauses, feeling vulnerable. "It's not just that. I'm scared."

"I sensed that." Blake's voice has softened. "Maybe once the interference of crossing over passes, you'll be able to feel her presence. I can, she's far, but not as far as she was."

Weiss exhales, actually finding a little comfort. "Good... that's good."

"We'll find her."

Weiss has a flurry of responses in her mind, unsure of which one to choose. Instead she simply reaches out until she touches something, the fatigues of Blake's black clothes. It's her way of saying _I want to believe, but I'm too uncertain to get my hopes up._ There's a spark of surprise when she feels the warmth of Blake's hand smooth over hers, leading Weiss to believe she may be feeling the same thing.

Author's Note: This chapter feels incredibly awkward, then again that could just be me because I'm so inconsistent these days. I dunno. Please, comments are really helpful, as are questions, so feel free to send them my way. Thankfully the reception so far has been positive, so I'm running with it as best I can. Next chapter, everything is going to -more or less- kick off, so it's probably going to be a long one. Hope to see you there!


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Pyrrha doesn't like how uneasy she feels when she wakes up. She doesn't like how quiet the house is now that the twins are with Gypsy, and waking up _after_ sunrise doesn't sit well with her either. For a long time she simply lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and at the shadows cast by the sunlight filtered through the curtains, wondering what to do with herself. Jaune still sleeps beside her, seeming to revel in his slumber as it's rare that he gets to sleep in. He rolls over with a snort, half draping himself over his wife, unknowingly making her smile. Pyrrha kisses his forehead, smiling a little wider at the soft, happy noise he makes in unconscious response. Her mate's closeness and warmth wards off some of the creeping anxiety she feels, but not all of it.

When she tries to get up, Jaune's limbs cinch a little tighter around her, he mumbles some sort of protest as she resists with a giggle. She almost gets away when he half lunges and snatches her by the hips, pulling her back down in a fit of laughter; clearly he has been more awake than he appeared. Jaune smothers his wife with kisses and nibbles at her neck as he holds her against his chest, ignoring her half resistance for the moment because he loves hearing her laugh.

"Come shower with me." He hums against her throat.

"Breakfast." Pyrrha answers, still squirming to get loose.

"Shower, then breakfast. Give ourselves a chance to work up an appetite."

"But I'm _already hungry_." she whimpers playfully.

"And I will make _whatever_ you want, as much as you want, just come and bathe with me. Please?"

Pyrrha shrugs, but still leans into his hand as his knuckles brush her cheek. She'll relent in the end, eventually being led out of bed, out of the bedroom and to the bathroom by the hand. There's no need to bother with undressing, so they kiss and laugh and tease one another while they wait for the water to heat up. If she wasn't suspicious of her husband's true intentions before, there's no doubt what he's up to now as what starts as a routine shower becomes lovemaking. It's slow, almost reverent, they enjoy themselves in a way they haven't been able to too often since the twins -usually it was a quickie to be sure they weren't away from them for too long. It leaves both of them feeling refreshed, not necessarily _clean_ , but certainly refreshed.

The couple come down stairs, finally dressed, to the pleasant surprise of a prepared breakfast, Ren having just finished plating the meal as they reached the foot of the stairs. He offers to let them have the morning alone but is more than happy to accept their request to stay, and Nora must have been eavesdropping from upstairs as it's only a moment before she makes her way into the kitchen as well.

For a while, Pyrrha is at ease, and finds herself not missing the cubs as much.

"So what are you going to wear when I take you out tonight?" Jaune asks casually, but smiling in a way that is anything but.

She meets his grin with her own. "I haven't decided yet. What would you like me to wear?"

"Hm," he thinks as he chews and swallows, "I suppose something you find comfortable. Something you don't mind sweating in, seeing as we're going to be dancing." He pauses again to sip his coffee. "Something easy for me to get you out of because that's exactly what I intend to do when I get you home."

Pyrrha can feel herself blushing, doubly so when Nora snickers from across the little table they all occupy. "I'll keep that in mind." She clears her throat. "You've got tonight all planned out, don't you?"

"Mostly." he chuckles a little as well, loving the little redness on his wife's freckled cheeks. "I'm hoping to make this a night you'll never forget."

"I'm sure I won't."

 _(II)_

Though she is clearly calmer now, the glowing marks and fierce features having receded, there's a noticeable force behind the swing of the tower chamber door as she enters. It's enough to give Neo pause, turning away from her work with a certain wariness. Even when Cinder grins in what appears to be satisfaction, the Changeling doesn't relax entirely.

"Still awake?" Cinder asks loudly, knowingly. "Good, now," the smirk suddenly drops to a gentle frown. "Neo, I said no more blood." she knows that smell anywhere, never mind that she can't see a trace of it.

Neo can't help but cut a wide, sadistic grin as Cinder looks her over, eventually settling that golden gaze on the glowing red end of the iron spoke in her hand. She begins to sign; _I thought you of all people would know what burns smell like._

Cinder's smile returns. "I see." a second look at Yang's body reveals patches of glowing scales up and down her sides, between her ribs. They match the empty stump of her arm, where the Dragon flesh has healed up, impervious to heat unlike the human flesh it hid beneath. "You're too good at bending to rules, you know that?"

Neo nods enthusiastically, literally bowing and stepping back as Cinder approaches.

For a moment Cinder just stands in front of Yang, watching her dim lavender eyes swim aimlessly between heavy looking lids. Her chest jumps weakly with rhythmic breaths and her head hangs only as far as the jade collar allows.

"Poor thing," Cinder coos softly, "you're a mess, aren't you?" And surprise flickers across her face at the pitiful, but still audible growl she receives in response. Her subsequent chuckle is covered up by Emerald coming into the chamber.

"I'm here, had to stop by the lab."

"Not to worry, you're the master of ceremonies after all." Cinder can feel a swell of excitement in her chest, a sensation that doubles over as she half turns to see Emerald coming forward, the Minister's glasses in her hands. There's a brief anxiety as Emerald puts them on and Cinder waits. "...Well?"

"The ritual worked." Emerald lets out a breathy laugh, seemingly surprised. "I can see traces of the same energy as the Cornerstone. She knows."

" _Perfect_." Cinder hisses. She regards Yang again. "You look like you could use some rest."

"D-don't...touch me." Yang grinds out.

Emerald doesn't wait for a sign or command, and moves forward as planned because she knows she must be quick. She expects resistance both inside and out, so there's no surprise or timidity when Yang jerks against her hands as they try to frame the restrained woman's face. There's a monstrous bellow of defiance from Yang before magic flexes through the air and she falls abruptly silent. Fast asleep.

With this sort of magic, Emerald needed to work faster than an unwilling mind -the unwilling mind of a Dragon no less, which she has yet to experience. Without delay she mutters a swift incantation, confident that she can establish the link to scry Yang's mind; with Neo's close attention forcing her to stay awake, coupled with the sudden cognitive shock of unconsciousness, gaining access is simple as blinking. But, then again, getting in is the _easy_ part.

A mind scry is, typcially, not too dissimilar to looking through a book; memories and knowledge are separate volumes and kept apart from all the other things that makes up a person's mind and personality. Cinder's reminded Emerald of a prison, access to everything strictly regulated and walled off, while her own had been described to her as a hedgemaze. She couldn't even begin to speculate the contents of Neo's mind, and she prefers it to stay that way.

She has no way of knowing what to expect from a Dragon, much less someone like Yang, so what she finds leaves her briefly in awe. Once her consciousness passes through a wall of static, it's greeted by the grandiose and vast manifestation of what can only be described as the cosmos itself. Galaxies and nebulas and innumerable stars orbit around a single, brilliant sun that likely represented Yang's psyche.

"Anything?" Cinder asks anxiously. She's teething the corner of her lip and even tapping her foot.

"Give it a minute, I just got here." Emerald replies slowly, distracted.

"...Is she pushing back?"

"Not yet. _Be patient_."

Even with her mind's eye, Emerald is able to use the minister's glasses as a filter, scanning the celestial vastness for the unique glow of energy that would show her where to look. She'll catch the brief flare of a constellation on the far side of that roiling sun, deciding to start her search there.

Looking across the sea of stars brings a steadily growing uneasiness; it really shouldn't be this way. It should be chaotic, everything out of place and moving in the wrong direction, against the grain. All of her experience -and she has quite a lot- is telling her that a week's worth of torture should have left this place in an actual supernova of disarray.

 _No way Neo's losing her touch..._

Then again, Emerald remembers that Yang is a _Dragon_ , not a Witch or Fae or even a Seer; this mind is unique in every way, and counting on the rules for all the others applying here was foolish from the start. Now she's doing her best to work faster, anything to get out of this as quickly as possible before it became something she couldn't control.

"Anything?"

"If you keep asking, you'll have to wait outside."

Cinder frowns quietly, resisting the urge to growl.

And just as Emerald's conscious mind processes the heat of Cinder's frustration, it's quickly overshadowed by a sort of static charge. It draws all of her attention back to the task at hand.

Over her shoulder, Cinder perks up. "I felt that."

"Everything's fine." though she isn't entirely sure how true that is.

"I know, just stick with the plan. You can do it." and Cinder's oh-so-rare assurance is strangely potent.

Just as the constellation felt only an arm's reach away, Emerald stops, turning back to face that sun at the center of everything. Whatever is happening is coming from there, and for several tense seconds she can only watch as the celestial body shudders and shifts with waxing and waning light. Out of the solar flares emerges something like a comet, a long ribbon of stardust trailing behind it, but Emerald knows it isn't just some random thing, a stray thought, it's conscious. The comet seems to stretch and begin to ripple, becoming serpentine.

Emerald swallows hard, a thought that physically manifests as she tries to brace herself. She keeps her mind's eye on what is now, very clearly, the expression of Yang - the golden Dragon with a mane of fire and raven feathers- as it works its way towards her. Even at a distance she can feel the great pressure of the Dragon's presence, making her all the more aware of the power it could wield against her in this sort of reality. But she waits, she'll hold off on the spell she has primed in the back of her mind a little longer.

 _You can do it. Cinder's right. You're the best and there's no one you can't fool. Just stick to the plan._

The Dragon continues to advance, making a bee-line for what it senses as an intruder. It's vision is blurred, unsteady from fatigue and incredible strain, but not so much that it cannot sense something amiss. When it realizes there is a tangible _other_ , it snarls, and its once lavender eyes flash bloody red.

Emerald saw the immediate change, felt the shift in energy, and took it as a sign to spring the trap and pray. She thinks the incantation faster than she could ever speak it at the same time as she recalls the wealth of information she had gleaned from Cinder's mind in preparation; Emerald vanishes within the grasp of her most powerful glamour yet -powerful enough to manifest physically as well and make Cinder shift uncomfortably- and now hides behind the image of Summer Rose. At first the Illusionist doesn't think it's working, because the Dragon only continues to advance on her, its eyes unchanging. She's mentally holding her breath until the last second, when the Dragon drifts off its direct course to begin circling in a relaxed coil around her presence.

The redness fades and Yang's consciousness relaxes for the first time in days, feeling comfort now instead of danger. Summer had visited her in dreams before as a memory, so this is nothing to worry over. Perhaps there were more Fae energies nearby to make this memory so unusually _real,_ real enough to touch even. There's contact the Dragon can measure, a harmless hand through its mane as it passes beneath. More comfort, yes, Summer would never do it harm...

 _Show me_

It's a whisper, a kind request in a voice that is faintly layered with something unfamiliar but missable.

 _Please, if you know...show me_

The Dragon knows what she's asking for, and though it's Summer, it's hesitant to reveal that secret. There are _rules_ , and surely Summer knows them.

 _The Scribe is in danger. Help me find him._

 _ **You're dead.**_

The pulsing reply jars Emerald, threatening her focus, but she's quick to recover. _I can still reach him, just as I'm reaching you now. I can warn him._

A mental snarl resonates through the solar system, the stars flashing wildly.

 _ **Dead**._

Emerald braces against the static that charges through her brain; Yang is starting to resist the spell. _I need you to trust me._ She feels Yang pushing back again, but this time yielding only a little, inch by inch so as not to shock herself and drop the glamour. Cinder is frowning at the sudden but subtle shift in energy, uncertain of what's going on.

Yang pushes through the mist of sleep, her senses dull but still painful in a way. She can just barely open her eyes, her eyelids so damn heavy, and what shapes she can make out aren't anything like what she last remembered seeing. But what she _can_ see is jarring. Her brain sputters on impossibilities and fractured reasoning; she _knows_ this isn't right but...

"...Mom," the word emerges dry, tight.

Emerald's heart is pounding -what she does next could ruin everything if she's not careful. "Please, Yang. Please help me."

She hears Summer's voice, but something is still so wrong with it. "Don't make me."

"I'm begging you, sunshine." Emerald lays it on a little thicker, softens her tone a little more. " _Please_."

Yang blinks slowly, then starts shaking her head in a sluggish way. "Wait...you...no," then a little harder. "You're not,"

"Now, while she's still confused," Cinder demands.

"But,"

" _Do it_." she bites back.

Emerald reacts more than obeys, redoubling her efforts to reestablish the scry, but this time she punches her way through the Dragon's mind with all the force of a bullet. Yang's whole body jerks in its confines and her head snaps against the wooden platform, her eyes roll back in her head and her nose begins to bleed. After a few tense seconds, Emerald's does too. Nearly a minute goes by before the Illusionist's glamour finally breaks, collapses like shards of glass just as Emerald collapses to the floor under a wave of vertigo.

Cinder is there to help Emerald to her feet, partly surprised in herself for offering such a kindness. "Did you get it? Tell me you got it,"

Once she has both feet on the ground and two hands on Cinder for balance, Emerald nods. "I can find him, but I need a few minutes first."

Cinder laughs a little, almost euphoric. "Of course, whatever you want. I knew I could count on you." Cinder embraces her.

Neo comes back into view, strolling towards them and seeming to settle next to Yang who is finally still and quiet. She has her favorite tool in her hand, a steel stiletto, and she clears her throat to get Cinder's attention while raising it to rest against the Dragon's sternum.

"Oh no," Cinder shakes her head, "let her sleep for now, I'd say she's earned it. And this will make it easier should we need to harvest more parts, don't you think?"

Neo knows she means that to be funny, but the Changeling is hardly amused. She buzzes her lips and deflates, disappointed.

"Besides, it's time to put your toys away, we've got real work to do."

 _(III)_

Pyrrha looks herself over in the mirror for the last time, nodding in approval at her outfit and with a touch a relief to finally have clothes on again -not that she didn't appreciate all the extra attention Jaune had been giving her. At that she grabs her scroll off the edge of the dresser as she passes it on her way into the hall, slipping the device into the perfectly sized pocket on her hip that she buttons closed. She smiles at glimpsing Jaune as he passes the bottom of the stairs, unconsciously quickening her pace to reach him sooner.

They meet in the space between the kitchen and living room, wrapping themselves up in each other with a soft ripple of laughter and a few kisses, like they hadn't been doing that all day already.

"Hm, could've sworn you would have worn a dress tonight." Jaune hums softly.

"Changed my mind." she doesn't know why she's blushing, only that she can't help it. "Or do you not like it?"

"I love it, green is my favorite color on you." He kisses her again after glancing up and down, admiring the way the rich green tunic hugs her frame in all the right places, like her black capris. "You're beautiful."

She blushes harder and giggles. "Thank you, you clean up pretty nice yourself."

"I do my best." and he knows she loves him in button down shirts, because she loves how it feels to undo them herself. "You ready to go?"

"Whenever you are." He watches her nod and responds with offering his arm, which she happily takes. They walk together to the front door, keys jingling as he pulls them off the hook. He'll lock up behind them.

Jaune opens the passenger door of his truck for her, giving her plump bottom a little support and making her side-eye him with a smirk. He laughs to himself as he climbs in next to her, more chiming keys as he works one into the ignition and starts the engine.

Once on the main road they start talking, not about anything in particular, just anything that spirals into a long discussion as they hold hands atop the middle console between the seats. Jaune unconsciously strokes the tattoo on Pyrrha's ring finger, the mark that matches his own that they chose in lieu of traditional wedding bands. He'll glance down at it briefly, off and on when he knows it's safe to take his eyes off the road. He can't help but marvel at her, at _them_ , it's humbling. He brings her hand to his mouth and kisses her knuckles, loving that she reciprocates in kind.

It's just before sunset when they arrive in Vale proper and it takes almost a half hour just to find somewhere to park. They finally find a spot about a block away from their destination; they don't mind, it gives them a chance to walk arm-in-arm and talk a little more without the hustle and bustle of bodies that's sure to be waiting for them at the restaurant. Just as they had on the drive over, they drink each other in, greedy for attention and affection, wholly unaware of everything else.

Unaware that, even now, they are being watched by the quiet, small framed woman with bi colored eyes that knowingly lingers several steps behind. Neo watches them through a set of glasses, watches how fingers of golden fire seem to hover around the man, tangled with threads of the same cosmic energy that came from the Cornerstone. The woman he's with is giving off her own sort of glow, but the Changeling doesn't feel threatened; surely she isn't anything Cinder can't handle.

Neo follows them until the pair disappears inside a building, seamlessly carrying on her own way to cross the busy intersection at the end of the block. On the far side she'll duck out of sight, slipping between a pair of highrises until she's certain no one is around to see her. From there she'll snap her fingers and disappear in a flicker of silvery light, the same light that flashes when she reappears atop the building across the one where the Scribe had entered. She eases up to the edge of the roof, getting her bearings before smirking gently and beginning to draw on the bricks she leans against with the tip of her finger. When the sigil is complete it gives off a pale glow for all of a minute, settling in place before leaving a black outline of itself behind. Then Neo shrugs, already bored because all she can do right now is wait.

It's quiet inside Shangri-La, but it's just before the dinner rush and Jaune and Pyrrha know the peace won't last. They're seated at their table relatively quickly and order their drinks, telling the server to take her time getting back to them for now. For a while they just continue chatting, nursing their drinks and playing footsie under the table, seemingly at home among the Mistrali style decor. At first it's casual, somewhat mushy reminiscing of their first date, and it eventually evolves into entertaining the idea of eating before dancing, mainly because they're both performers and enjoy being seen dancing almost as much as dancing itself. In the end they decided to do just that, placing their dinner order once the server came back.

Pyrrha finds herself lost in all this, in him, in a way she hasn't been able to get lost in most anything in some time. The anxiety that had been haunting her for what felt like a short eternity feels long gone, she doesn't even miss the twins as much. Maybe this is what she had needed all along, just time out of the house and alone with Jaune, with her mate. Time to remember that just because she's a mother now, doesn't mean that's all she is anymore. This free feeling only pitches as that night goes on, as they laugh and talk and dance. He keeps her close, leaving barely enough room to breathe between them, and everything he says is soft, missable to human ears but certainly not hers. She blushes and giggles, hiding her face in his neck all the while drifting further and further away from that looming dread of yesterday. After Jaune murmurs _I love you_ for easily the tenth time, it's all but forgotten.

"It's getting late." he says, tone still hushed. He smiles "We've been here almost four hours."

"Hm, what a way to spend an evening." she replies, eyes fixed on their joint hands drifting between them.

"Ready to go?"

"Not just yet." she smirks up at him. "One more dance? Then we'll finish our drinks and head home."

"Whatever you want, love."

The sigil Neo had drawn allowed for Tag's gate to open up directly atop the same roof, Cinder and Emerald stepping through just as the few stars that could shine through Vale's light pollution begin to flicker. The swirling portal of light collapses behind them, the dull roar of resolving magic enough to draw Neo's attention. Emerald is quick to approach her and she surrenders the minister's glasses, but Neo's eyes are fixed to Cinder. She starts to sign; _expecting to make a mess?_

Cinder snickers as she strides up to the edge of the roof, peering over and down into the busy streets a couple stories below. When she straightens again she adjusts her clothes, which now consists of darkly dyed leather armor mixed with the dull shimmer of metal studs and buckles, steel and silver like the arrows resting in the quiver on her hip. "Best to be ready for anything. Admittedly I'm shocked I still fit in this old thing."

 _Is the mask really necessary?_

She adjusts the article in question that rests atop her head, pulled up and away from her face for now. "Just in case any other supernaturals are snooping around, they won't bother us." Because anyone who's anyone knows to turn a blind eye to a bone white mask in the dark. "So you found him?"

Neo nods as she turns towards the ledge, pointing down at Shangri-La on the far side of the street. Cinder spies the building for a moment, taking in what layout she can, watching from the corner of her eyes as Neo continues talking with her hands.

"Bodyguard, you think? Oh," Cinder snickers when Neo elaborates that she didn't _act_ like _just_ a bodyguard. "Any idea what she is... but you're certain she's supernatural? So be it."

"What do you think?" Emerald asks, arms crossed and looking at both her partners.

"We move fast." Cinder says certainly, confidently. "Snatch and grab."

 _Can I kill the woman?_ Neo inches up to her, throwing on her best pout and bringing her palms together in front of her in a silent plea.

Cinder shakes her head, visibly amused. "You can certainly try, knock yourself out. I'll ghost the two of you, make sure you have a way back."

While Neo vibrates and squirms with excitement, Emerald only nods. Part of her doesn't like this, part of her hates that they're going into this half blind, and part of her hates that they're about to throw someone's whole world into chaos. But she forces herself to rationalize it; her own life had been nothing but chaos, Cinder's too, and they had a right to some form of peace just like everyone else. Didn't they?

Emerald sighs quietly and looks back down into the street. "Lots of traffic. Might be hard to go unseen, even if we hurry. Stopping it altogether would give us too many wandering eyes."

"Then turn the lights out or something, that's child's play for you." Cinder looks her over for a moment, brow cinching gently. "You okay?"

"Yeah, anxious, I guess." Emerald explains quickly. "We're closer than we've ever been."

Cinder smiles, all fangs and menace. "I know." and, in truth, her heart hammers behind her ribs, almost humming with the speed of her pulse. A humming that jerks when Neo snaps her fingers and directs their attention below. She immediately picks up on what the Changeling is pointing at, feeling the slightest tug of energy from the braid of Dragon mane she wears beneath the armor. Yes, yes, yes, the luck feels good, so Emerald's earlier warning of it possibly going either way is forgotten. She watches the couple start down the sidewalk, towards the half block of lessened light between intersections, then sharply tucks her chin, it's just enough force for the mask -a toothy carving of a snarling and horned demon- to slip down and cover her face again. She loves the way Emerald tries to hide a startled flinch when she and Neo look at her.

"Let's go."

Jaune and Pyrrha walk together seamlessly in spite of being practically joined at the hip. Their steps are unified, the impact of heels in time with one another. Pyrrha feels comfortable, almost like afterglow, and all she wants is to lay against Jaune and feel his warmth. Although that is a decidedly harder thing to do while walking, so she contents herself with holding his hand that rests at the curve of her waist.

"I can't wait to get you home." He hums into her hair before kissing there. "I bet you can't either."

"I'd be lying if I said I could." she is a _little_ keyed up, having been so close to him all night and unable to do much more than palm his chest and biceps. There's an insistent but tolerable throb between her legs that pitches gently at the idea of the privacy of home sweet home. But with that comes a steady sense of vulnerability, no dread, thankfully, just a feeling of exposure that she is becoming too aware of. Yes, home, that's what she needs, the security of her den. "I've had a wonderful time."

"Me too. But just wait until-," he cuts himself short, including his stride, in unison with the several street lamps along the sidewalk. "Whoa, power outage."

Pyrrha swivels in place to look for herself, and sure enough, every building on the block has gone dark, along with any lamps and traffic signals. All the light there is comes from the host of cars that are slowly coming to a stop, but even then visibility is minimal. "Guess we left at the perfect time."

"Seems like it."

Something in Pyrrha's mind is telling her this isn't right, not just coincidence, but she'll only allow her brow to furrow and nothing else. She isn't about to let her paranoia ruin this. She starts to pull her husband along. "Come on, I can still see just fine."

Jaune chuckles. "Good to know my powerful Alpha is here to protect me."

"Not so loud," she hisses, only somewhat playfully; there are still people around that could hear.

"Excuse me? Is someone there?"

They stop again, Pyrrha unconsciously putting herself in front of Jaune. Just ahead she can see a silhouette haloed in light, the flicker of light off the lenses of glasses, and the sight is enough to put the little hairs on her neck on end. "Hello?"

"Oh, thank god." There's genuine relief in the woman's voice. "I hate to bother you, but could you help me?"

"What's wrong?"

"This is going to sound ridiculous, but I have night blindness. Yeah, there are the headlights, but it's not enough for me to see by." there's a sheepish chuckle, but it does nothing to soothe Pyrrha's instinctual suspicion. "Though my ride isn't far off, really. Should be just around the block."

"Of course," Jaune offers immediately, "we were headed the same way, actually."

Pyrrha has to consciously stop herself from protesting. Now she understands what she's feeling more clearly; this woman is supernatural, but that doesn't necessarily mean she's a threat. She'll relent, though obviously wary, and extends the same offer to help. As the three start down the sidewalk once again, Pyrrha lingers just behind, but remains well within reach of Jaune. She'll have her eyes glued to the back of the woman's head the entire way.

Just as Neo's gaze would be stuck to the three of them as she creeps silently through the darkness nearby; most supernaturals can see in the dark, and the Changeling is no exception. It's near effortless to stay out of sight with a thick column of hedges and link fence between her and her intended quarry, but she takes extra care to be quiet as she still isn't sure just what that redheaded woman _is_. She has decidedly more experience with people when they were already dead, all their secrets since exposed.

Neo tails them to the end of the block, stilling long enough to watch where they head off the main road and down the next towards the parking lot she recalls from her earlier spying. The traffic isn't as heavy here, so Neo proceeds with even greater care, letting the distance between her and them swell a little to help hide the sound of her steps on concrete. There's the blaring of car horn from behind somewhere, loud enough and close enough to give her the confidence to move faster for a moment, letting her cross an empty lot. Another one a few seconds later allows her to hop a fence with next to no worry of detection.

Now she easily moves about, a shadow between the host of different cars, using glass and mirrors when she can to watch them, feeling her pulse jolt when she sees them turn to start walking in her direction. With silent precision she ducks away, drawing her favorite stiletto in tandem to a small collection of steps that puts a large SUV between her and them. Standing on her tip-toes she can peer through the vehicle's windows. They were almost in position.

Pyrrha keeps wanting to look over her shoulder, feeling eyes on her in a way that makes her skin crawl. _Something_ feels so terribly wrong, but she bites her tongue because she doesn't want to sound paranoid. This night was going so well, she didn't want to ruin it. But...

 _Just relax, the truck is right over there. You're almost home, everything will be fine..._

"Thanks again for the assist." Emerald says for perhaps the third time, confident she isn't laying it on too thick.

"No problem, we were headed this way anyway, like I said." he nods. "So is this you? You're sure you're safe to drive?"

"I'll probably wait for the street lights to come back on, but at least I'm at my car and not just wandering into traffic." She shares a laugh with him, almost too aware that the woman beside him seems totally unfazed by the joke. _Is she on to me?_ _No, couldn't be, or else I'd be dead already._ But she can't help but feel that this woman is, at the very least, suspicious of something. Emerald felt the instinct to move, and trusted in it as she touches the rim of the glasses.

That feeling is back and it doubles over as a heavy, dead heat in Pyrrha's chest. But before she can fully evaluate the sensation or react to it, it morphs, _sharpens_ , and tears _through_ her stomach. The air hesitating in her lungs bursts free, creating the awful, wrenching gasp that made Jaune whip around inhumanly fast.

He'll never be certain of what he saw that night, only of what he felt, and what he felt was terror. But it was only for a second as a great force felt to focus on the back of his head and _push_ , throwing his head into the side of the vehicle he was standing next to, snuffing out everything.

A dull, hot pressure swamps her, and Pyrrha hits her knees to hard pavement after a short eternity of paralysis. And in that time she couldn't breathe, but once she feels the alien sensation of smooth steel sliding free of her gut, her lungs scramble to pull in air. She slumps onto her side, hands folding over the wound in her middle, and she shivers at the almost scalding heat of her own blood pooling in her palms. Within the pulsating static of her own throbbing pulse in her ears, Pyrrha can just make out the commotion of footsteps and words, but can't understand a single syllable. Her heart _pounds_ and tears of pain too great to fathom burn her eyes.

Emerald catches Jaune's now limp body across her back, grunting in surprise at his unexpected weight as she straightens with him now situated on her shoulders.

"Don't take forever with your little game." Emerald warns. "Cinder won't hesitate to leave without you."

Neo just buzzes her lips and gives a dismissive wave of her free hand.

Pyrrha's on her back now, frantically trying to focus and to keep the panic _-oh gods, oh gods I'm dying-_ at bay. Through the blurred haze of tears she can see the little woman looming over her, sees the movement of the faintest shadows as the other woman appears to leave. _Jaune...where's Jaune..._ _ **Jaune**_ _..._ Her heart rate surges as her concern instinctively shifts from her own survival to the safety of her mate. Her entire body starts to tighten in a hauntingly familiar way, and mild confusion flashes through her mind for all of a second as it struggles to process the absence of a full moon.

Once Emerald is gone, Neo looks down at the sputtering woman between her feet, a wicked grin oozing across her face. Her head cocks curiously as her victim grunts, the sound strangely animal...snarly. With glinting interest in her eyes Neo turns the metal spike in her hand, almost playful with it as she shifts to her knees to straddle the woman's waist. With her night vision she can see the shimmer of tears on her cheeks, the tightness in her eyes as they are screwed shut, and the dark dampness of blood in her clothes. Then there's that snarling noise again, and her night vision picks up the stark whiteness of teeth. _Fangs_.

Neo quickly turns the stiletto again, the edge pointing downward. Her curiosity had flickered into a purposeful concern. Then her expression becomes an exaggerated, determined scowl when the woman opens her eyes and all Neo can see is solid green with vicious black slits.

Pyrrha's body is hovering in the seconds before the change, when muscles push past their more human limits and threaten to snap, when the fangs come and pound within their moorings in her jaws. It's when her nails are too long to make a fist without slicing her own flesh, when her grip is like a steel bear trap. A grip more than strong enough to snatch Neo's wrist and stop the lethal descent of the spike towards her throat. The shock and pain and fear has transformed into fury and an Alpha's instinct to protect what belongs to it; a raw, primal force that easily tore itself free from the sway of the lunar cycle.

Pyrrha pushes, a chesty growl emerging as she opens her jaws to make certain her fangs are visible. Neo pushes back, expression still steadfast and fearless, but makes absolutely no gains against the lycan. Finally Pyrrha shoves, a punctuated thrust of her arms that sends Neo flying into the rear bumper of car, leaving a vague imprint of her body in the chrome. Both of them manage to their feet almost in unison, Neo pushing herself through the rattling in her skull, and Pyrrha twisting wildly onto all fours before taking three lunging steps. Just as Neo is pressing her back straight against the car, Pyrrha's clawed hand snaps upward in a powerful jerk, and there's the unmistakable sound of ripping cloth and flesh with the splatter of blood. If Neo could scream, she certainly would have.

Cinder jumps down from her perch on the corner of roof, down into still heavy shadows below, just as Emerald came close enough. The rustle of leather and metal made Emerald stop, panting from her effort to make it this far as quickly as she did without being seen.

"Where's Neo?" come's Cinder's voice from behind the mask.

"Doing what she loves, I guess." If that awful gremlin could love anything.

But something felt off, a little voice in Cinder's head is nagging her, assuring her it shouldn't be taking this long. Neo _knew_ they didn't have the time for her to dawdle. "Get through the portal. If I'm not back in five minutes, close it. I'll find another way home."

For a moment Emerald just looks at her, something human in her eyes. She wants to say _be safe_ , or something else just as sentimental, but holds it back. Cinder's kind don't appreciate that sort of nonsense. "...Alright."

Cinder is swift to disappear, moving too quickly for even Emerald's eyes to catch. Swathed in shadows she moves like a spirit, unheard and unseen, weightlessly jumping several cars en route to the lot that Emerald had come from.

She only had to pass the first row of cars before her senses are beset by the stench of blood. It's hot and heavy, unmistakable, and it draws Cinder's attention like it would a hunting dog's nose. Then she suddenly stills at the sound of boots scrambling on pavement, and there's something else she can only somewhat recognize; like an animal being shoved through a grinder. Neo comes stumbling out of the darkness, a wet squeak following behind her as her blood-smeared hands slide across a trunk lid to keep her from collapsing. She's covered in blood, clothes shredded down the front, and Cinder will readily admit to this being the first time she has ever seen real fear in the Changeling's eyes.

Neo's too frantic and dazed to sign coherently, her hands attempting to say something and failing miserably; they gesture around her face but Cinder can't even begin to decipher what it might mean. Without hesitation Cinder ushers her on, telling her to get back to the portal as she had Emerald -she knows Neo can make it, having seen her go through worse before- and then reaches for the scimitar tucked beneath the quiver at her side. Once she's certain Neo is well on her way, Cinder starts forward.

She barely has all her fingers curled around the weapon when there's a jolting groan of metal and a scraping sound that heralds a veil of orange sparks, all of it drawing Cinder's gaze to the source just in time to see the dark blur that leaps towards her with a glimmer of teeth and green eyes. Cinder cannot draw her blade before it hits her, all bulk and fur and muscle tearing her to the pavement. Her ears are full of grating snarls and gnashing teeth as jaws close around her head, the bone mask the only thing standing between her and serious harm. She feels the pull of claws against her armor, hears the dull hissing of the silver studs -now she knows it's a lycan. A lycan is something she can handle well enough. If she can just get the leverage...

Cinder's hands begin to glow, a flicker of fire cutting the darkness as she works around to grab the werewolf by any part she can reach. A loud, punctuated hiss is followed by a sharp, dog like yelp of pain as the hulking Alpha jerks away, giving Cinder the few fleeting seconds she needed to get back to her feet and reach for a pouch on her belt with one hand and her scimitar with the other.

The werewolf immediately lunges back in, ducking the first whistling swing of a blade and jumping to avoid the second as it comes back. With jaws open wide it tries again, catching Cinder by the wrist and pulling down with all its weight to set her off balance. Its head jerks back and forth as its jaws close tighter. After a second there's the distinct snap of bone and a grunt of pain, a discomfort that's swiftly returned as Cinder hurls something in the creature's face. A cloud of dust erupts from the impact between the werewolf's eyes to coincide with the shocked yip, and its clawed hands immediately start to rub at its face when the burning sets in. Tears fill its eyes and it's almost impossible for it to see anything except blurs of gray.

Cinder wastes no time and breaks into a full sprint, blade at the ready for a precise upwards swing as she goes running by, splitting the lycan's chest and up under its arm; if it wanted to give chase, it was going to have a hell of a time doing it with a wound like that. She'd stay to kill it outright if she had the time, but she was expected elsewhere and maintains a healthy clip out of the lot and back towards the way she had originally come.

Rage and now incredible pain swamp the werewolf's mind, the fresh injury only seeming to stoke its anger. Though it can't see much at all now, it has that thing's scent fresh in its snout and goes after it on all fours, just barely missing running into the metal fence surrounding the lot. The powerful strides briefly stumble, but just as quickly they steady and begin gaining on Cinder.

She jumps into the street, now clogged with idling cars, vaulting from roof to roof with next to no sound in hopes of confusing the lycan, and the mask does well to hide her genuine shock at the tactic failing. She unconsciously counts the heavy metallic crashes that quickly gain on her, but refuses to look back on the chance it will prove her suspicion of the werewolf being right on her heels. Cinder rolls out the impact of landing on the sidewalk when she reaches the other side, quickly hopping the fence that lines the path and disappearing behind the thick ivy woven around the chain links. The werewolf simply tore its way through, aluminum claws ripping at its hide.

From here she can see the rooftop and just make out the faint glow of the portal waiting there, that coupled with the distinct heaving breaths of the werewolf running her down is more than enough to put a touch more urgency in her steps. Her focus shifts from the rooftop to the barrier wall below it, and to the large truck between her and the wall; Cinder knows she can make that jump as she adjusts her path ever so slightly. She jumps up onto the cab of the truck, then onto the trailer it's hitched to, running along its length to its end. Just as she hears the resounding crash of what is likely the werewolf running headlong into the side of the trailer, she makes a jump for the facade of the building on the far side of the wall.

The werewolf scrambles up the side of the trailer, seemingly unfazed by the heavy impact with the vehicle as it's dragged along by that grating odor of brimstone that fuels its manic drive. It can still make out the singular movement of something in the messy sea of half color, pausing for but a second to watch a dark splotch appear to crawl upward against a wall of gray. It springs for it with a defiant roar, falling just short of its target and digging in deep with all of its claws to stop itself from falling. It madly climbs after its quarry, refusing to stop.

Cinder reaches the top first, knowing she has the seconds she needs to unlock the tiny hidden mechanism in her scimitar so it comes apart into a pair of blades. They're separate for but a moment before she brings the flat pommels together, golden sigils in the blades igniting to bind them into one weapon again. Without stopping her path to the swirling portal, Cinder glances over her shoulder; the lycan is gaining on her fast, just as she thought it would. Without thinking she times her steps, spaces them out just right in conjunction with how the werewolf moves, and holds her now glowing weapon in one hand while reaching for an arrow with the other. A bowstring forms out of thin air, glowing like molten glass as the notch of the arrow pulls tight to it.

For a split second Cinder and the werewolf seem of one mind; both of them take a great leap, one towards the stirring whirl of magic, the other towards the dark splotch it's able to make out. Cinder spins in the air, pulling back as she far as she can against the pain in her mauled forearm, so far the teeth of the arrowhead touch her knuckle just before she lets go. She knows the arrow hits, feels it in her guts, but she won't get to see where, if the hit was lethal as she slips into the hold of the portal before it surges and closes around her.

The werewolf flies through the faint mist left behind, crashing to the rooftop with a wrenching, guttural groan. The scent is gone and the fury is dissipating with it, quickly being overrun by the awful pain building in its chest. It's heavy, it _burns_ , and it's sapping what strength it has as it tries to pull up to its feet again. Unsteady paws swat at the arrow, only serving to stir more jolts of pain. A veil of dizziness washes over it and it collapses, unknowing of how close to the roof's edge it is. The last sensation it feels is free fall, then nothing.

On the far side of the portal, back in the protective confines of her fortress, Cinder lays on the floor and laughs between panting breaths of relief. Yes, her arm is in a world of pain as it lays across her chest, and her head is throbbing from the brief mauling that was strong enough to chip and crack her mask, but still she laughs. Because she got away with it. By the gods, she _got away with it_. She has the keys to the cosmos and not the Wild Hunt, not even Raven Branwen herself could take that from her now. And no werewolf either, in spite of the Oracle's warning.

She lays there and she laughs.

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait everyone, the last few weeks have been...really something. Between looking for the desire to write, my job being incredibly stressful, and dad passing away, it's been a real struggle. Thanks to everyone for being so patient and understanding, and I promise I haven't given up yet. I'll need time to contemplate some plot logistics in the upcoming chapters, so it might still be a while before the next part to come out. Hopefully it will be worth it in the end.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Once the night dissolved into day, Blake and Weiss started to follow their faint but steadily strengthening connection to Yang. Quickly, quietly, unobstructed by the dense growth of the ancient forest. The Shadowmancer kept to the trees mostly, able to all but blink from branch to branch not just to travel in her own sort of comfort, but also giving herself a higher vantage to see a ways ahead. From time to time her attention strays to Weiss just below, and each time she's impressed by how well she travels -for a woman who chose to wear heels, that is. Weiss is surprisingly fast, keeping pace with Blake and just as quiet to move between the trees with feather-light steps.

They only stop when necessary, to rest and get their bearings as best they can. Blake scales the nearest, tallest tree to have a look about and to catch her breath, mindful of the tiny homes of Fae folk. From the canopy she can see a great swath of the valley; she thinks her memory of the archive map is accurate enough to figure out where they are, but she's lacking a distinctive landmark and has been for the last few hours. Then a breeze comes in from the west, bringing with it a scent that stands out from the old growth and moisture and spores from below. Trying to place it, Blake takes one last lingering scan across the horizon, double checking before making her way back beneath the canopy of branches and interweaving vines.

The Faunus perches on the lowest branch in an amusingly feline way, setting eyes on Weiss just in time to see her flinch with subdued surprise at her reappearance.

"You okay?"

"Y-yes, just...you're so _quiet_." She had known Blake for some time now, and even in more intimate settings such as the manor, she has never thought of the Faunus as invisible.

Blake's grin has a smug lilt to it. "Quiet keeps me alive."

"Indeed."

Her head cocks to the side, matching the slant of one fuzzy ear. "You sure you're all right?" Because the Witch has yet to look at her directly, seeming uneasy and overly vigilant of her surroundings. "Sense something?"

"...Maybe?" Weiss answers with a touch of exasperation. "I...it feels like someone's trying to stare holes into me. I can't recall feeling anything like it before."

One sable brow lifts as Blake's head and ear straightens. "Strange."

Weiss just nods, unsure of what else she can say. Then she clears her throat. "Find anything yet?"

"Maybe." Blake hops down to the ground, the most noise she's made yet. "I smelled smoke, so someone's got a fireplace going, but it came in from the west and that's not where we're headed."

Another curt nod. "What else?"

"The trees break up on the horizon ahead, I think, and that means we're likely nearest the southwest border. I saw abyssal caves on the map in only two places, and seeing as we're not on the slopes of an active volcano, we could only be in one other region."

"Ah, good, that actually sounds familiar." but only so much. If they were nearer the capital city, she'd feel much more confident about the situation. _Gods above, what the hell is this awful feeling?_ Weiss shakes her head hard and heavily pats her own cheeks, like she's trying to shrug off a sudden bout of fatigue. When she comes out of it she starts again when she finds how close Blake has come to her in those brief seconds she had taken her eyes off of her. "W-we should go."

"Maybe take another minute? Get yourself together a little better?"

"I'm fine." Weiss exhales, mentally forcing herself to believe it. "Come on."

They're off again a moment later, returning to the same dogged pace they began with.

Weiss finds comfort in the dull warmth coming from her earrings, how it grows stronger by degrees with every passing league through the forest; Yang is still alive and they're getting closer. But the solace is tainted with the lingering pressure, that creeping dread of something heading right for you that you can neither see nor stop. And it grows as well, only much faster.

 _Too_ fast.

How Weiss knew when to move is a mystery, but her instincts snap and her body shifts without her permission and with all the ease of intention. Something comes crashing through the middle of a gigantic tree that had been directly in her path, slivers and shards of the ageless timber blasting outward with near lethal force, enough to lance through other trees nearby. Weiss had twisted away at the last possible second, but had still been close enough to feel the rush of air and wood chips and an oppressive, sweltering wave of heat.

She spins around to face it, drawing Myrtenaster with the tip of the blade angled at the near pitch black cloud of smoke that has billowed into being from within the remains of the tree's trunk. Her pulse is already high, pounding in her throat in time with her racing heart, which only seems to surge harder still when she sees a sinister amber glow within the smoke. Then the darkness is swept away by a powerful swing of arms made from powerful musculature and roiling, molten rock. The body is similarly fixed together, lean, strong flesh stitched with magma and brimstone that heaves more smoke into the air with swarms of embers. The skin is alight with seemingly countless sigils and seals, all of them pulsating with powerful, ancient magic. The face seems human, though the eyes are invisible behind a slowly spinning halo of glyphs, but atop the head of crimson hair are incredible horns that curl back, under, and then forward into rough, vicious points. The creature's face is set in a savage, unyielding snarl, releasing breath hot enough to ripple the air around its mouth full of sharp teeth.

It makes a sound, like the dull roar of the backdraft from an inferno that actually makes a word. " _ **Schnee**_!"

 _Oh gods_. The Witch shudders, knowing exactly what this creature is. _Gods have mercy on me._

Though her fear lasts as long as the little prayer, and she immediately snaps herself to the ready. Myrtenaster's silvery edge slants towards the monster in the instant before all the muscles in her body move in unison to propel her forward. The air shudders as she appears to blink across the space between, the movement punctuated by the ringing of steel. The Witch refuses to let the dismay she feels show as she acknowledges the brightly shining glyph pushing back against her, a breath between Myrtenaster and the beast, and she simply continues the push though this _thing_ doesn't even flinch.

The creature will push back, push _hard_ , lunging effortlessly against her and forcing her back further than where she began, her heels driving deep furrows in the earth and one snapping clean off as it clears a raised twist of roots. Weiss spins a glyph around the wrist of her off hand, deflecting an upward swing of smoldering claws, sparks flying hotly against her face. Another, then another, smoke starting to dance between them as it takes everything she has just to hold her ground. The golden glyphs circling the creature suddenly flare in congress with a particularly heavy swing, and when talons connect with the glyph it shatters with a radiating pain that rattles up her arm. Weiss swallows the hurt and quickly turns it into a rush of magic that she channels through the blade, the steel glistening white as she thrusts it forward. The beast howls at the frigid hiss of ice punching through its shoulder.

Weiss won't linger long, swiftly jumping aside as a swath of flames come spilling from behind the monster's fangs, but she's quick to advance again now that she is in line to strike from behind. She'll land two more precise blows, pushing just between the protective sigils before he retaliates, twisting in a most inhuman way to swipe upward and connect with the Witch's chin. Her backpedaling is entirely reactionary as the scalding pain shoots from her chin to her jaw and into her face, one hand clapping over her eye that feels to steadily burn hotter. Witch blood simmers on the creature's talons as it turns towards her and snarls.

In the instant that the beast lunges again, Blake descends from the trees above with silk and steel shimmering. There's a great _CRACK_ of impact, a shower of violet sparks erupting from between the monster's shoulders before it tumbles forward and hits the dirt. The Shadowmancer seems to stretch as she reaches for Weiss across the space between them, easily snatching her wrist and pulling her along.

"The hell was that thing?" Blake asks quickly.

"Balore, long story," Weiss pants, the throbbing in her face becoming sharper with her steadily climbing heart rate.

"Then tell me later." Blake isn't so sure what a Balore is, exactly, but she acknowledges the weight of its shadow and knows damn good and well that they needed to get as far away from it as possible - _fast_. "You okay?"

"Painful, but I'll live. Where are we going? You can't outrun this thing!"

"Not trying to." Blake pauses for a split second, seeming to get her bearings before starting off again, now in a new direction. "Just have to get a little ahead."

"Then hold on to me."

A kitten's squeak ekes out of Blake as her hold on Weiss' wrist is quickly twisted around, the Witch pulling her closer than she expects and looping a firm arm around her waist in the split second before gravity starts to pull against them both. The wind howls in all four of her ears, deafening, bordering on too much before it suddenly stops. All the force she had felt against her whole body suddenly collapses into a space the size of a thumb, focusing on her gut, and Blake crashes into it. The world spins, weightless and backwards, and the Faunus wretches loudly at the feeling of her guts trying to burst through her skin.

Weiss fairs little better, having collided with something as well at that breakneck speed. She goes spinning through the air, head over heels until she smacks chest-first into the low bough of a tree that is somehow strong enough to catch her momentum. As the wind flies out of her lungs she wishes the damn branch had broken. She slips away from rough edged bark to hit the dirt face down, struggling to breathe properly again.

The Balore had found them, following the cold sting of the White Witch's magic to guide its own and trace her. The liquified rock in its flesh flares and surges with heat as he glares through the sigils hiding his eyes. With three long strides he's on her again, and he swings one leg hard against her side to flip her over and leave a streak of charred cloth half way around her waist. She hits the trunk of the tree, the leaves above shuddering with impact, and Weiss sputters, blood now gushing from her nose. Her vision swims, but it comes together in time for her to comprehend her present peril and reflexively throw up a ward before the Balore's burning talons can reach her. There's sparks, the shrill screech of stone and metal, and the Balore just _pushes_ against the magical shield. Weiss has both hands on Myrtenaster, and she uses the relic's inherent power to bolster her own, but even then she fears it isn't enough.

The Balore roars, sparks and embers flickering behind its fangs. The sigils on its body shimmer brighter and the pressure against the ward mounts. The Witch's defense begins to crack, spiderwebs of light fracturing across the spinning symbols.

The Balore suddenly jerks and shrieks in pain, backpedaling unsteadily with its brimstone hands clawing against its chest. It's all Weiss needs to get away from it, which she does in the blink of an eye and a cautious flicker of movement. When she's distant and stable on her feet again she's ready to go right back in, but pauses, feeling an oppressive energy wash over her. It isn't the Balore, it isn't anything she recognizes at all, actually, but she understands once her half-dazed mind comprehends what she sees.

Blake is a few feet behind the Balore, unarmed and open handed. Ribbons of crimson ripple and wind outwards from the awful wound in her belly, up around her arms and fingers, writhing with their own sort of life, soft until they reach the Balore, which has been lanced through with seemingly countless red barbs. All through its body they pierce its skin, course beneath it _and_ all of the protective sigils inch by inch.

 _Blood._ Blake was using her own blood to restrain it; Weiss is certain of it once she sees the Shadowmancer's amber irises lost in crimson, and tears of the same color are rolling down her face. Her clawed fingers hook, fluid solidifying in the same instant just before her hands clap together, those fingers interlacing as rigid red spines rip through the Balore's body. Its roar of rage and agony is trapped behind jaws that have been lanced shut.

Blake relaxes with a burst of air, her palms pressing to her eyes as she teeters on her feet. The pain in her side has her bending at the waist, but Weiss is there to stabilize her before she can fall.

"Gotta go," Blake pants, swallowing heavily, "that won't last long."

Weiss bites her lip, her eyes moving from Blake to the Balore and then back again.

"Keep north, I have an idea."

"You're not going to make it very far, Blake."

"We don't have to, just go."

Weiss stabilizes herself with a breath, giving the seething monster one last look before the two women all but disappear in a gray blur of movement.

The Witch can sense the distance steadily growing between them and the Balore, finding some relief in it as the forest passes in a wash of blended color. But, by the same token, she can sense Blake's strength dwindling; she's lost so much blood, and if they don't find safety soon...

Weiss holds her a little tighter. _I can't lose you both. I can't._

She shakes out the worry, knows she needs to focus, and gathers herself back together in a snap. Eyes now fixed ahead, a relieved sort of softness flickers across her once fixed, determined scowl.

"We're almost out of the woods. The trees part ahead."

"That's not the edge of the forest." It's a bit slurred, but still understood. "Keep going."

"What do you mean?"

"Trust me."

It's only in the seconds before the break in the timbers yawns open and they pass through it that she remembers the abyssal caverns.

She can't stop herself, it's much too late, and her gut drops the second her brain notes the absence of terra firma beneath her heels. He breath snatches up in her chest, she can't breathe, and her mind is wiped clean of anything and everything except the tragic security on the far side of the incredible vacancy in the ground between her and it.

Blake moves, slowly but surely as she pulls her limbs against the awful weight of half-consciousness. She's doing her best to recover as she shifts against Weiss, pulls the Witch to her and tries to speak loud enough over the rush of air around them. Through heavy lids she keeps track of the light, knowing they might only have an actual second between it disappearing and them crashing into whatever lies in wait at the bottom of the chasm. Her felid ears fold flat atop her head, blocking out whatever Weiss is trying to say -or whatever her blood-deprived brain is making her believe she's saying.

"Shut your eyes. Don't make a sound." and she just hopes Weiss is listening. Prays, as she senses the shadows growing closer. An unconscious worry compels her to put her hand over Weiss' eyes, bloodied fingers gripping gently to silently assure her that this is better. "Don't make a sound." Blake repeats, her Shadowmancy blossoming around them and plucking them out of the light only to plunge them into darkness.

 _(II)_

The fire in Emerald's alcove roars hotter than usual, the heat soothing to Cinder as she sits particularly close to it and nurses her wine as a distraction from the pain. It's not as bad now, the throbbing ache in her arm, but it's enough for her to see it tended like a mortal would. Emerald carefully finishes the bindings around the splint, not meaning for it to be wholly secure, as Cinder would only need it for a few hours. It's mostly just to keep her mindful of the injury so she doesn't overuse it. When Emerald's finished Cinder looks the limb over, flexing the fingers loosely before letting her arm drape across her stomach.

Cinder takes a lazy, deep breath. "How's Neo?"

Emerald mimics the action as she gathers the few tools she needed to set Cinder's arm in preparation of putting them away. "She wouldn't let me touch her, she was too upset."

"I can imagine." Cinder grins slowly, taking another sip of wine and looking into the flames beside her. "It's not often that she gets handled like that...without her consent, anyway."

"I'm worried, though. She might take it out on someone."

"Not if she wants her head and shoulders to remain acquainted."

Emerald files away each item, meticulous. "I'm mostly worried about the Dragon in our attic, so to speak."

"Don't be." Cinder exhales with a little laugh. "Neo is very...she needs instant gratification when she's in this kind of mood, something she isn't going to get out of _her._ "

Emerald pauses, eyes narrowed on Cinder. "What do you mean?"

Cinder buzzes her lips, suddenly amused. "Not what you're thinking," she chuckles. "Just a basic sleep curse, that's all."

"Oh."

Cinder just nods, comfortable in the notion that she understood. "And my Gatekeeper is used to her abuse by now, so no real harm done."

Emerald knows it's just in Cinder's nature to be so callous, but sometimes it's still shocking. She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. "If you don't need me for anything else, I'm going to go check on the Scribe, see if he's come to."

Cinder nods and hums. "Give me the bottle before you go."

Emerald smirks as she fills the request, though the expression is short lived. "What should I tell him?"

The cork on the bottle pops. "About what?"

"I went through his things," she pauses, scowling lightly. "...I think that lycan was his wife." There had been pictures in his billfold, several, all of them something happy and achingly human.

"Tragic, really." though the words are hardly believable, considering Cinder's tone and the more obvious focus she's giving the contents of her full-again glass. "Tell him the truth, I guess. Spin a lie if you want, it's of little consequence to me."

"Well, with all due respect, if he believes we killed his wife, he might not be very willing to cooperate."

"As if he has a choice in the matter? What do you suppose he'll do about it?" she smiles in a way that doesn't fit her fangs. "If he chooses to be...obstinate, we'll handle it, just like we handle _everything_. We've made it this far, haven't we?"

Emerald laughs to herself, the sound breathy and limp, and she feigns a smile when Cinder smirks at her. She'll eventually nod and go about her business, taking her time ascending the stairs out of the alcove and giving Cinder one last, uncertain glance.

Cinder doesn't see that last look, too absorbed in her wine and the crackling of the flames that are so much like her thoughts now. Her skull is full of flickers, ideas upon ideas compounding as she considers the days ahead. They are so _close_ now. _So. **Close**_. Since she came into being and was able to comprehend the nature of her existence, Cinder had sought the means to be free, to restore her _true self_ , and _**now**_...

The fingers on her injured hand flex again, this time with purpose. They sift through the folds of her loose shirt and find the braid of Dragon mane resting against her chest. She worries it with the pad of her thumb, soothed by the softness, and reassured by the little warmth still residing in it.

Perhaps her luck will hold just a little longer.

 _(III)_

A horrid stench pulls her consciousness to the surface in one rough, unkind instant. It's the unforgettable reek of spoiled food and rancid garbage of countless sorts becoming steadily heated by the sun. And, unfortunately, Pyrrha's nose is the only thing that seems to be functioning as expected when she finally comes to.

She reflexively gags, but grunts more so at the lancing pain in her chest, the crackling hurt enough to make her open her eyes and wake more fully. Her eyes still burn and she can barely see, but the blurs have colors now. She feels the abrasion of plastic bags and bottles, of worn paper and the threat of broken glass against her bare side and feet. She sputters something that's almost a word, biting the noise in half at another charge of pain. It's the same pain that stops her from rolling onto her back, as even the slightest motion forward or back disturbs whatever is going through her. Just like simply breathing does.

Pyrrha's mind is frantically trying to gather the pieces of last night, mostly succeeding with the exception that nothing is in proper order; just pictures and feelings cluttered together in a heap not unlike the one she's laying on top of. Her focus is trying to linger on the shock of a bone white face with fangs and horns, an image that tries to stir her fury that is quickly squelched by the pain that clutched within her ribcage. A restrained sob finally escapes.

 _Focus, focus, focus -god it hurts, what happened, Jaune, **Jaune** \- focus_

Pyrrha takes as deep a breath as she's able, holding it in and then letting it go slowly, forcing her heart to steady at least a little. She knows she can't just lie here, this dumpster was sure to be picked up eventually. But _gods above_ she can't imagine how she was going to be able to get out of this without injuring herself even more. She needed help. But how in the hell...

 _Scroll, scroll, scroll_

But she didn't even have a shirt, why would she...wait.

Thankfully it didn't hurt to move her hand, and it unsteadily rises from where it rests, punched through a trash bag, to reach for her hip. Mentally she's praying, her lip between her teeth until her fingers make out the shape of the scroll that she had buttoned into her pocket. She holds in the little chuckle of relief as her blood smeared fingers work the closure open. The threads holding the token give out before Pyrrha's patience, and she whimpers gratitude to anything that's listening as the device slips free.

She almost has it pressed against her face, trying to see it well enough to make out the screen, but she can't. Pyrrha bites back a curse as the burning in her eyes surges, tears setting in, and struggles to compose herself after a series of quick but shallow breaths. She feels across the screen with her thumb, searching for the seams of one of the buttons. When she finds it she'll hold it down, listening for the telling chime of the voice control activating. It sounds like the first half of a stereotypical doorbell.

"C-call Billy." she forces out, worried her voice wouldn't function at first. She doesn't hear the expected dial tone, so she tries again. More insistent. "Call. Billy."

There it is, that morse code of sounds followed by that blessed buzz of a dull ringing. _Please pick up, please-please-please, I know it's been too long since we talked but-_

There's a click and then a low hum of static. " _...Tanka speaking...hello?_ "

For a moment the words are stuck behind a lump in her throat, eventually wrenching free. "Th-thank god. I need your help."

" _Who is...Pyrrha? Is that you? Are you okay?"_

"No." her throat is tightening again. There's relief in sight so all the courage she had bolstered to keep her wits is starting to waver. "I don't know where I am."

" _You hurt?_ "

Pyrrha nods to herself, thinking they know. "Bad."

" _Hold on..._ " something crackles over the line. " _Don't hang up, I can trace your scroll, but I'm on my way._ "

"Thank you," she tries and fails to restrain a small sob. "Thank you."

There's a long pause, and that low hum seems to rise in frequency, like the revving of an engine. " _Can you tell me anything? What do you see?_ "

Pyrrha sputters, almost laughing. "I'm in a dumpster."

" _...Did you turn last night?_ " another long pause. " _Pyrrha, I need an answer._ "

"Y-yes. I think so." Pyrrha feels herself wince at the audible sigh from the other end of the line.

" _Can you tell me anything else? Any distinguishing landmarks around you?_ "

"I don't know, I can't really see. I got hit in the face with something,"

" _...Can you tell me what it smelled like?_ "

"No, I...I don't know. All I can smell is trash."

" _Do you remember_ anything _from last night?_ "

"We...Jaune and I...we were at Shangri-La."

" _I'm going to head in that direction until I get a signal, just stay put._ "

"P-please hurry," she swallows again. "I'm...in a lot of pain."

"Just stay on the line." While keeping their eyes on the road -Vale's metro traffic is _**HELL**_ -, Billy hits a switch beneath the steering column. The SUV's headlights and taillights flash, there's a siren eerily similar to a common ambulance. "Keep talking to me, try to stay awake. Tell me anything you can remember."

" _...A mask._ " comes a tight, difficult response. " _I think it was a mask._ "

"Colors?" They bite their lip at having to swerve, ignoring the blaring horn of the other car as they twist the wheel hard. "What was it shaped like?"

" _Fangs...horns...maybe...I think it was white._ "

Billy scowls, holding their breath as they pull through a red light. "Just white? Any red?"

" _Maybe._ "

 _Shit, shit shit._ They look at the dashboard, where their scroll sits in a caddy. "I've got your general location, I'm just a few minutes away."

" _Good_."

For a moment the line is quiet, Billy's too focused on traffic to hold conversation, but there's a spike of worry when they realize how much time passes without a sound from the far end of the connection. "Pyrrha? _Pyrrha_. Still there?"

" _They took him_." Her voice cracks. " _They took Jaune_."

"Who? The one in the mask?"

" _I think so,_ " she whimpers, " _but there was more than one. There had to be_."

"Hold onto that, keep that as fresh in your mind as you can, tell me all about it when I get there because I'm right around the corner. _Hold on_."

The tires squeal and Billy almost gives themself a little whiplash at a perilously sharp turn, eyes wide at the way the car rocks on the shocks. They spot the club Pyrrha mentioned and immediately start looking one way and the other for any and all dumpsters. They needed to find a safe place to park, too, knowing this would go a lot faster on foot. As they pass Shangri-La, Billy can feel a tattoo on their back heating up, nothing urgent feeling, but definitely enough to garner their full attention. Someone's been doing serious magic nearby, and recently. It's a place to start, they think.

As the vehicle rolls to a stop on the far side of the street from the club, the lights and the siren cut off, but for safety's sake Billy keeps the hazards flashing. They aren't concerned about being seen, especially when they quickly round to the back of the car to lift the door and fish out a painfully visible, bright red bag with the white logo for the Specialties Clinic on it; anyone who's looking will see it and keep their distance, not wanting to interfere with a possible medical emergency.

They jog at a healthy clip down the sidewalk, gauging the heat building in their shoulder blade. The trail leads them down an alley, and sure enough they quickly hone in on the lone, hulking steel frame of a dumpster. They can also see that one side of it is crushed, bent downward as if by impact from above. Billy's tall enough to look in, feeling their gut drop. Gods have mercy.

"I'm here, I've got you." They assure Pyrrha as they lift themselves up onto the unbent edge of the container. At a glance none of it looks good. _Gods girl, how are you still alive?_ There's an arrow. _Through. Her. Chest._

When she knows they're close enough, having felt the trash shift around her, Pyrrha reaches out, half desperate and half coherent, to latch on to a familiarly thick forearm.

"I know, but I need my hands right now." Billy gently pries her fingers loose, holding her hand for just a moment, just to comfort her. "Let me see."

Billy carefully moves her head, wanting a closer look at the redness they find around her eyes -they're terribly swollen. There's some sort of chalky residue that they're able to wipe off with a finger, and when they can't suss out an odor they chance to put it to their tongue. They spit it out a second later, going for the zipper on their bag.

"I'm gonna rinse your eyes, should be able to see just fine in a minute. Might burn a little."

Pyrrha just whimpers and accepts it, gripping Billy by the arm again when they cradle her head in one hand. It does burn, gods above it burns _so bad_ , bad enough to make her lips flare and show fangs around a tight, chesty growl. But she keeps her eyes open, only blinking after Billy says she can.

"That's it, keep it up, look here; how many fingers do you see?"

Pyrrha blinks a few more times, each flicker of dark and light bringing out a clearer image. She can still feel the swelling and terrible tenderness, but now the world is finally more than blurs. "Three." she manages as she clears her throat.

"Good."

"What was that?" Pyrrha groans.

"Ash wood dust." Billy drops the little bottle back in the bag and starts fishing around for something else. "Lycans are allergic."

"How could...how did they know?"

"No telling right now, so I'm just going to worry about getting you out of here."

"Thank you for coming. I know it's been a while,"

"Don't worry about that." Billy shakes their head. Now they have what looks like pliers and and roll of gauze and tape in their hands. "I said you could always call me if you need to, and here I am. Now this is going to be rough, so just be patient with me."

She can feel fresh tears coming, fear making her ribs clench painfully. "Can I hold on to you?"

"So long as it isn't my hands."

Pyrrha finds a fold of their heavy flannel shirt, just above the belt line, and holds it as tight as she's able. The worst of it comes when Billy has to clip the end of the arrow, the jolts of pain as the pliers close are enough to get tears rolling down her streaked cheeks again. All the while the Shaman is assuring her as best they can, promising the hardest part is over. But Pyrrha refuses to believe that when they try and lift her up, almost swallowing her tongue at the incredible, tearing pain coming from the side she had been laying on.

"Easy, easy," they have to follow through, they can't just drop her back on the trash, and instead hold her to their chest and let her sob into their shirt for a moment. "I'm sorry. Gods, I'm sorry. Only a little more, I swear."

Billy finds the long, cruel laceration under her arm, visibly scowling at it and the mess of dried blood around it. They try to move quicker, frustrated mostly at themself when they reach back into the bag for the biggest gauze pad they can find. It'll keep until they can get her to the clinic. With that mostly cared for, Billy continues with the original plan of stabilizing the remains of the arrow's shaft with gauze and tape -the pieces they clipped away were stuffed in the bag.

"I have to carry you," they grunt, big arms trying to work under her with as much care as possible. "Ready?"

Pyrrha just nods, biting her lip and bracing herself. It's not as bad as she expects, and being in Billy's arms brings a certain security, she feels less exposed even as she winces at the sound of traffic surging when they leave the alley.

The SUV has a lot of space in the back, and over the years Billy had outfitted it to serve numerous purposes. On several occasions they had to transport...cargo that they couldn't just strap down in the back seat, so they rigged the framework in the back with a few hooks that could hold almost anything, letting Billy set up a hammock of sorts that would allow for whatever they were traveling with not to be disturbed too much during the drive. It takes some work to get it set up and to get Pyrrha in a position that is comfortable but not stressing her chest wound, but the two manage it together.

As the back door closes, the driver's side door doing the same a few seconds later, Pyrrha finds the most comfort she's had. Finally; this is familiar, this is safe, and now her greatest fear is her mate's absence. It's all she can think about as all the tension in her body breaks and she allows her fractured awareness to collapse and go dark.

Billy tries to keep her talking, asking for anything else Pyrrha could remember, but when there's no response, they just push down on the gas pedal.

Author's Note: I don't think this is trash, just really rough. I'm still trying to find my way out of what I think is a depressive episode, and it's not easy. I've been trying to find time and energy to do things I love, but with my work schedule and nature of my job itself, that has been mostly impossible. But I'm making little strides, sometimes big ones, and I feel like I've made a big one here. I'm getting there. Going to likely have a lot of exposition in the next chapter, possibly including exactly what Cinder is -because someone guessed right and they deserve the validation. Love you guys, see you then!


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Ten**

Plansewalking and what is sometimes called Shadestepping are not, at all, the same thing. While both crafts take a certain degree of natural predisposition and years of training to even access, and both allow one to travel much more quickly from one location to another, that's where the similarities end. Plansewalking is significantly safer by comparison, and may be attempted alone, because the space between planes is relatively free of entities that might devour an unwary traveler.

The plane of Shadow -the largest of all planes of existence- is teeming with _things_ , and all but a few are completely invisible to anyone who isn't an experienced Shadowmancer or a Faunus. It also helps to know the tricks, as it were, because traveling through shadow isn't about fending off these creatures, it's about keeping them from knowing you're there to begin with. That's why Blake does her best to keep Weiss' eyes covered as they drift through the endless black, and when she's aware of how loudly the Witch is breathing, panting like a frightened animal, her other hand carefully covers her mouth as well. Because that's how they find you; they _listen_ , and they _know_ when unfamiliar eyes are on them.

Weiss' heart hammers against her ribs; she's never been here before and can sense herself as an alien presence, but she can also feel the awesome volume of creatures around her and it threatens to send her into a panic. She still clutches Myrtenaster in one hand, but the other is just as securely curled around Blake's wrist as it's the only thing she can think to do. As it stands, she's the only thing keeping Weiss grounded at the moment. There's something secure in such intimate touch, something that assures her that she's safe and that everything will be all right.

Coming through the other side is unexpected and jolting, both of them hitting the ground with some momentum behind them that sends them crashing to the dirt. They separate, Weiss gasping for air more from riding out the fear than from a lack of oxygen. Blake groans and rolls slowly onto her side, body and hands tightening around the wound in her belly again.

Weiss gets to her hands and knees, feeling somewhat calm and collected at last. Looking to one side she spots a great tree with an impressive, natural opening in the trunk, not a trace of light within it, realizing this is where they fell out of. Looking the other way she sees Blake, feels her pulse spike again at how she doesn't appear to move. Refusing to crawl she gets her feet beneath her, rising just enough to close the space between them in only a step or two.

"Blake," she chances to touch her, relieved at the little twitch of one felid ear. "Blake, are you all right?"

A breathy whimper is the only response. Weiss tries a gentle tug on Blake's shoulder, encouraging her to let her have a look, but all she can focus on is how terribly gray Blake looks. She's lost so much blood.

"Blake, this is bad." Panic is creeping up her back again, feeling to double over when Blake makes no vocal reply. An amber iris peeks between dusky lashes, but that's it. "I can heal you."

Blake makes a chesty, grinding noise. "Not a Healer."

"I know, but if I don't you'll _die_." Weiss swallows hard.

"...Y-yeah. K-kay." Blake forces herself to move, to settle flat on her back, and pries her own hands away from the wound. She crosses her arms, holding tight to her own sleeves to brace herself.

While anyone gifted in magic can use it to mend injuries, only born Healers can do so without significant cost. Not only is it a considerable drain on the practitioner, but it can be painful for the victim; in this case, magic is only speeding up the body's natural process, regrowing tissue at a rate that makes it _tangible_.

"Do it." Blake grunts. Her knuckles are red and white against her sleeves.

Weiss nods, trying to assure herself as much as Blake, and then brings her free hand to hover over the bloody hole in the Faunus' body. It takes a moment, but a sigil appears between her palm and Blake's skin, the immaculate whiteness of the Schnee emblem. Its light waxes and wanes, pulsing like a heartbeat as the spell begins its work. At first there's no reaction from Blake, if there had been, Weiss would certainly know considering how closely she watches her. Then the Witch feels her magic really take hold, and in the same instant Blake's ears snap flat against her hair and her already tightened face morphs into a toothy snarl.

Weiss is starting to feel it too, watching the tighter curl of Blake's fingers into her sleeves coinciding with a painful tug in her own veins. The magic _drags_ through her, frost bite and razors, but it isn't enough to rupture her focus. The pain peaks as the spell resolves, as Blake's body bucks upward with one last, drawn out and grinding growl before flopping back down. The Witch's vision swims and her heart pounds, threatening to drag her consciousness under.

"No, no," Weiss shakes her head, her face covered by her hands, the pressure of her fingers reminding her of the cut over her eye. "Can't stay here. Please." She's trying to get Blake up, even if it's just to a sitting position, it's better than the ground. Her heart is lurching because Blake isn't moving, a glance at her gray face reveals the way her eyes have rolled back. She has the Faunus against her chest and is trying with every ounce of strength she has left to stand up, but it feels like pulling against the weight of the cosmos and that awful burning dread is rising again. Her jaw clenches at one incredible, herculean push to her feet. " _Please_!"

Weiss can hear the punctuated shatter of timbers, one after the other as that terrible creature comes barreling through the forest, surely on a direct path to her.

 _Gods, oh gods I'm sorry. I'm sorry Yang, Blake, I'm sorry I failed. I'm so so so sorry..._

Her strength fails and Weiss collapses to her knees, clutching Blake to her as tightly as she can, still chanting frantic, helpless apologies as she waits for the end that's coming.

The energies around them pitch, swirl madly as they collide, and then there's nothing but noise. A pressure mounts around them, feeling strangely...protective? Weiss' eyes are screwed shut as she huddles around Blake, part of her simply too afraid to watch what she is certain is her last seconds alive. Those seconds pass and...nothing happens. Somehow her sheer curiosity overcomes her fear and she lifts her head, opening her eyes to see the golden glow now surrounding her and Blake. For the time being she can't comprehend the sigil beneath her, a glowing, golden crown struck across the ground, she's much too fixed on the ruckus beyond the glimmering boundary. Snarling and sparks, the Balore lashing out at a figure that seems to move much too quick to see. They hold the Balore back, parrying its every attack, their off hand reaching out and touching the wards across the monster's body in a way that makes them outright disappear.

Weiss can only watch, too awestruck to be relieved.

The other figure pauses for the breadth of a second, a moment for Weiss to see them and recognize them; a Sylvan Fae with golden hair and horns reminiscent of a deer. The woman's eyes glow a powerful green as she lunges forward again, her off hand forward and fingers splayed wide. It's too fast for the Balore to catch and her palm connects with its chest. The rest of the wards dispel in a flash and scatter of stars, all except one. In her lead hand looks to be a mundane riding crop, but it is clearly anything but when she whips it forward to strike the center of the remaining ward, the tip of it piercing the central symbol of an eyeless skull.

The Balore shrieks defiantly in the second before the crop is ripped away, the ward blasting apart with enough force to push the two of them away from each other. The Fae controls herself well enough to land on her feet, seemingly relaxed but still more than ready should the Balore choose to press this matter further. Not that it had much time left to do so in any case, now with that last ward gone.

Rest assured the Balore tries, at least it intends to in its remaining moments. Its eyes are now visible and can clearly telegraph the rage that makes its molten limbs flare brighter than ever. But it fails to outshine the silvery frame of the spirit that comes speeding out of the trees, no brighter than the flash of light the splits the monster from hip to shoulder though it leaves no visible wound. The fire in the Balore's body dies, fizzles and hisses into cold stone as its skin goes corpse white and it drops to the dirt.

Weiss doesn't realize her jaw is hanging open as her eyes are wide and affixed to the spirit, the Reaper. It hangs in the air, hovering just inches above the ground in the shape of an empty silver cloak -as most Reapers do, or so she had come to understand. She knows it isn't here for her, and she prays it isn't here for Blake, prayers that mount in volume in her head when it doesn't immediately dissipate. Wasn't its work finished? _Please_ let it be finished...

"Schnee,"

Weiss blinks and immediately responds to the sound of her surname. And only now does she realize the golden glow has faded. "Madam Goodwitch."

The Fae adjusts her glasses and approaches slowly, arms crossing when she stops but a few feet away. "Safe to say I expected your mother."

"I...I get that a lot." she pants a little, still confused and still very tired.

"How on earth did you get here?"

"It's...quite the story, actually, which I hope I could have a moment before I tell it. It's been a rather busy day so far."

"I can see." She eyes the Reaper, golden brows skewed curiously. "I hope you won't take this incident as a breach in the treaty, as I had no idea that Balore still existed. And if _I didn't know_ , surely no one else of merit was aware."

"Not at all," she shakes her head, "but it's a matter for later. Please help us."

Madam Goodwitch promptly agrees, helping the young Witch to her feet before casting the smallest of spells to levitate the unconscious Faunus off the ground. She says her home is not far and wastes no time in showing the way.

The Reaper lingers only a moment more, perhaps contemplating the remains of the Balore, but then follows those still living through the trees.

 _(II)_

Last night had been a struggle. What with having done her best to keep a Schnee out of the Midden, then getting knocked around by Cinder only to turn around and open a portal for her to leave and return to, it's a wonder that Tag hadn't simply fainted. She had managed to crawl to her bed, her face still streaked with her own blood and bruised, and wholly careless to it. Her thoughts are thoroughly scrambled when she comes to some hours later, but she's somewhat accustomed to the condition and is able to recover with discomforting ease. As she checks herself over, wiping away now dried blood and checking to see if her nose is broken again, Tag focuses on more important matters.

Cinder finally had what she wanted; somehow she knew that infernal bitch had acquired the Scribe after all this time and that put the very cosmos in jeopardy. It would only be a matter of time now before she unlocked the Cornerstone and did gods-knew-what with it. And Tag knows she won't waste one precious moment, so the Faunus forces herself upright, bracing the wall at a wave of dizziness before making for what was left of her door.

She reflexively sneaks through the hallway, minding every sound she makes right down to policing the volume of her breath, wanting to draw as little attention to herself as possible. She follows the little buzz of energy she senses against the short hair on her neck, knowing it's Emerald and anxious about what she might be up to. She'll almost reach the end of the corridor before the last door opens and Emerald comes stepping through, alone, and Tag thoughtlessly drops into a crouch and goes stock still in hopes of remaining unseen. Emerald will continue on her way, seemingly none the wiser, but it still takes Tag a moment to relax enough to move again. She notices the still present prickle of magic, curious as to why the Illusionist hadn't taken it with her until she pokes around the doorway to look inside. The Scribe, it's coming from him; invisible threads of cosmic energy drift about even as he sits on the edge of a bed, hunched over with his face in his hands.

Her heart clenches as she straightens fully, carefully crossing the threshold and stopping, just standing there for a moment with sympathy pulling her features. She wants to say something, feels like she needs to -they're in this mess together, after all.

"...H-hey." Tag almost smiles when his head snaps up, what little traces of the expression falling absolutely flat when she makes out the man's face, the familiarity.

Jaune blinks at her, a tear falling down his bruised cheek in the same moment he acknowledges her own. "T-Tag, what...how did?"

"Oh shit." her heart drops, her tail offering a visible reaction with the last few inches of it flopping to the floor. "I'd ask if you're okay, but," she can plainly see the redness in his eyes, even if daylight weren't coming unhindered through the only window.

"...Pyrrha," his chest heaves and his voice cracks. "They killed her."

Tag deflates, her ribs clenching. "Oh gods...Jaune, I," But what the hell do you say to that? How could she say anything when she feels like crying now too? In the end she'll say nothing, instead easing over to kneel in front of him and pull him into as tight an embrace as he'll allow. He accepts it willingly, eagerly, all but shoving his face into her shoulder to openly sob against her. Tag has always been the empathetic sort, so his grief seeps into her, burning her bones like poison.

It feels like hours before he composes himself again, leaving both of them drained when he at last straightens and wipes his face on his arms.

"Jaune, I'm so sorry." Mostly because she feels responsible; Cinder wouldn't have been able to find them without her help. "This...it's my fault."

"What do you mean?" he croaks pitifully. "W-what the hell is going on?"

Tag exhales, momentarily wordless as her hand smooths over his atop his knee in an offering of comfort. She doesn't know where to start.

His lips tuck between his teeth and his ribs jump with a quick breath. He's trying to keep it together but it only gets harder. Then realization flickers across his face. "Gods, what about the kids,"

One sable brow lifts. "Kids?"

"Yeah, I...that's right, you don't know. My girls, not even a year old." there's the briefest smile, quickly covered up by his hand. "Thank goodness they're with my mom, but...what am I going to do?"

Tag's hand grips his a little tighter, her brow knitting in tandem. " _We_ are going to find our way out of here and off this plane. I couldn't do it by myself," she had tried before, and mentally flinched at the memory of that terrific failure, "but maybe the two of us will be enough."

Jaune's mind swims with...well, everything; all the things he knows, doesn't know, and everything he's worrying about and trying to put in whatever order it belongs in. And all of that is vying against his profound, surreal grief for his thready focus. He pulls his hand free of Tag's grasp to push it roughly through his hair, something physical that he can measure. He needs it so desperately, some kind of anchor to keep him grounded.

 _Focus on what you can change, on what you can control. As little as it is._

He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, surprised at how well it levels him out. "So what is this all about? Let's start with that."

Tag nods once. "It's...quite the story. What did Emerald tell you?"

"I...I barely remember." That whole encounter was mostly a blur at this point. "I just...maybe you should walk me through it."

"Well, in short, we're in deep shit." she clears her throat again while smiling in spite of herself. Maybe she thought to break up the heaviness around them. "At length, the _entire planescape_ is in deep shit."

"How?"

"Your mother ever tell you anything about the Cornerstone? Or the Scribe? Creation of the universe?"

"N-no." he responds uncertainly, wondering how any of those things related to each other or what they had to do with his question. His confusion only mounts when Tag groans with a sort of toothy cringe. "It's quite the story, too, isn't it?"

"Not entirely, no. You don't need the whole story to understand just how deep we're in it. The Cornerstone and the Scribe share a birthday, the Powers made the Scribe to create the governing laws of the universe and engrave them on the Cornerstone. The Scribe is the only one who can alter it, and is subsequently reincarnated, one life after another should the Powers that Be need him."

"What do I have to do with this, then? Or you, for that matter?"

"I'm..." the shame in her voice is palpable, "Cinder needs my powers to keep this plane shut off, buy her time. And she needs you...to change the Stone."

"...What?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but I assure you I'm completely serious."

Jaune's brow furrows low over his eyes, making him appear no more understanding than before. "I...can't. I don't...there's nothing magical about me. I mean, you know who my mom is - _everyone does_ \- but I'm just...me."

"Apparently Cinder believes otherwise."

"And who the hell is Cinder?" his tone sharpens like his expression.

"That would be me."

Both of them turn towards the smooth but insistent interruption, now aware of the woman propped up in the doorway and how self-satisfied she looks with a grin and crossed arms. Jaune eyes her for a moment, feeling only a little uneasy about her, a sense that doubles over when he glances at Tag; she's perched on the balls of her feet, a quick movement he hadn't seen her make, and her eyes are set warily, toeing the line with fear. She looks ready to bolt.

"You wouldn't be trying to turn the Scribe against me, would you?"

"Don't need any help from me." she answers meekly, but with an audible edge.

"Indeed." A touch of the smugness leaves Cinder's face, her amber eyes thinning. "Get out."

Tag moves cautiously, not too quickly rising to stand mostly upright. There is a tightness in her shoulders that only seems to mount as she get closer to Cinder, the two almost brushing against each other in the doorway. Just the _idea_ of coming into physical contact with her makes Tag jerk away, the Faunus bumping the door on her way out. Cinder smirks with a little snicker.

"It's Jaune, correct?"

Jaune stands up, feeling the need to make himself look as rigid and tall as possible. He had never thought of himself as an angry or vindictive person, but he was starting to feel it. " _You_ killed my wife."

"I was defending myself." she answers plainly.

"You wouldn't have had to if you had left us alone." his jaw tightens around the words.

"I'm afraid that wasn't possible." Cinder straightens and takes two short, casual steps towards him. Her expression is mostly neutral now, save for the arching of one brow at his defiance. After a beat or two it falls. "I...can understand that you're upset, and you have every right to be, but won't you hear me out? You humans like talking things through, right?"

"Got to hell." He bites back, squaring up to her.

"Been there, frankly it wasn't warm enough." She had heard humans liked humor, but by the way his face only hardened, clearly he's not one of that sort. "So, there's no reasoning with you?"

"You. _Murdered_. My _wife_." He repeats firmly, his jaw steadily tightening until his molars creak. "What were you expecting?"

"In all honesty, I expected you to be terrified at this point. But, then again," that razor sharp smirk is back, "you still don't know who you're dealing with."

"I know enough."

"You do? Well then," her amber eyes shimmer with interest, "let me just make sure we're on the same page." The smirk widens enough to show fangs, and then her entire form erupts into a column of flame.

Jaune staggers back, a reflex to the incredible breath of heat that slams into him. The anger and defiance in his face has given way to horror, his features only stretching as Cinder approaches him one casual step at a time. The flames coil around her, follow her, and the colors steadily wax brighter and brighter, almost white. He retreats as far as he can, his back to the still cool stone wall behind him, but he can feel them heating up as Cinder continues to advance. She doesn't stop until she's close enough to make him sweat, so he can see the budding features of the creature that hides beneath her skin; horns, tusks, and the dying sun at the back of her throat.

Somehow he finds the courage to steel himself. "I know you need me."

Her breathy, laughing exhale is full of sparks and embers. "Indeed."

"You're not going to kill me."

"Oh no, but it's adorable that you think taking your life is the worst I could do." The fire recedes from one clawed hand, revealing uncharred, pristine flesh that she reaches up and aligns with his jaw. She's amused he doesn't flinch away, and is certain he wished he had when those finger hook around his neck. That amusement only grows as she sees the dumb waving of his hands in her peripherals, knowing he likely wants to grab her arm in resistance.

"I have slain _Hunters_ , I have beheaded _gods_ , I have broken _Dragons_ , and I will slaughter a _legion_ of lycan mongrels," The heat in her palm steadily builds by degrees, passed the point of painful for a human. There's room enough in her grip for him to scream, but it's interesting to her that he doesn't. " _If that's what it takes._ Rest assured, killing you is the _least_ of your concerns."

And he believes her, dead to rights he has no doubt. Maybe it was the fear, maybe it was staring into that face through a veil of reflexive tears from the scalding pain below his chin; whatever the reason, he just chances a nod and hopes she understands it for what it is.

Cinder releases him, dousing the inferno around her and leaving nothing but a swarm of brief embers and smoke. She watches him squirm against the wall, reeling in his pain, panting and doing all he physically can without touching the almost glowing red handprint across his throat.

"Now," she pushes the creases down from her clothes with a leveling sigh, a coil of smoke passing her lips, "I'm sure you need some time to collect yourself, so, by all means, make yourself at home. If you should need anything, seeing as you and the Faunus know each other, feel free to ask her. We'll begin working tomorrow."

" _Fuck you_." he forces out, his voice broken and full of sharp edges.

"Come now, have some class, we've only just met." she giggles, turning away from him and starting for the door only to pause in the doorway. Looking back at him her eyes are still bright with fire. "See you in the morning. And don't try to leave the grounds, there are things in those woods even _I'm_ wary of." And Cinder blows him a kiss before disappearing from the doorway.

For a time he's simply frozen there, seemingly plastered to the wall, but once the shock-driven adrenaline ebbs he slides to the floor. His hands shake in front of him before covering his face, his eyes screwed shut in the futile hope that when he opens them again that he'll be anywhere but here.

 _(III)_

Raven and her brother share a great many things other than appearance, namely a dislike for certain planes. Neither of them particularly enjoyed traveling to Remnant, but by the same token, neither of them ignores a proper summons. Especially since perhaps a dozen...she hesitated to refer to them all as _people_ due to lack of accuracy -a dozen _beings_ across the planescape could actually call on her this way, and none of them would bother to do so unless it was important.

The abject shock on Raven's face is fully appreciated by Willow Schnee, the first person the Huntmaster makes eye contact with after stepping through the shadowy portal into the immaculate whiteness of the Witch's office. The next set of eyes she meets are silver, more familiar, and belong to a stern-looking shaman she knows well enough to let her confusion dissipate. They hold the black feather with the blood red runes painted along its spine, the sigils glowing as the summoning magic resolves. Still, some of her uncertainty remains, manifesting in the lift of a single pitch brow. "What is this about?"

"One of my former charges was attacked last night, nearly killed, and her mate was abducted." Billy wastes no time. "She described one of the attackers as wearing a white mask shaped like a demon."

Raven's brows level again, her heart hitching behind her ribs. For the moment she remains silent, watching as Billy tucks the feather away in their shirt pocket, but continues moving to pull a bright red bag around to open the zipper.

"I recovered this." They pull out the pieces of the silver arrow, the ornate and unique head resting on the meat of their palm, spattered with flecks of dried blood. "Do you recognize it?"

Her jaw clenches like her fist at her side. "I do."

"Does it belong to Cinder Fall?"

Crimson eyes cut to the White Witch, thinning at the smugness in the other woman's face. "It does. But how do you know that name?"

"Well, while you've been dealing with the Hunt's red tape, my daughter decided to head an investigation of her own. She's had the suspicion of Yang missing for more than a week now, and with the Belladonna girl's help, they were able to find where she was last seen _and_ who she was with."

"Taiyang told me. Where is Weiss now?"

"Naturally, she and Blake followed the trail."

Raven's face shifts into something severe. " _What_?"

"Gods willing they're in the Midden as we speak."

Raven scowls. "You _fool_. Why didn't you contact the Hunt first?"

"So we could sit on our hands with you? I think not." Willow counters, a certain tightness between her brows at Raven's insult. "I don't know if you can grasp this concept, but my daughter _loves_ Yang, and when you love someone, _you_ _do everything within your power to keep them safe._ And when you can't do that, you do everything within your power to _crush_ whoever does them harm."

"Love won't crush Cinder. Love means nothing to an Efreet." Raven feels a vain satisfaction in the way Willow pales. "You should consider yourself lucky if your daughter is even still alive."

"You let an _Efreet_ into the Hunt?" Billy gapes.

"There are no laws against it, and it wasn't entirely my decision. In any case it's irrelevant."

"Gods," Willow exhales, eyes wide. "Then...Weiss...she isn't ready,"

Raven, in some small way, wants to feel sympathy for the Witch, but seeing her afraid gives her too much satisfaction.

"How much did you know, Huntmaster?" Billy's shock has an edge to it now, a touch of anger. "Before now, how much did you know about this?"

"Enough to suspect a Hunter was involved, but little else. I've been chasing these shadows for nigh on two years, since the Minister was beheaded."

"And how long have you known about Cinder?"

"Barely a day."

"And you didn't think any of us might need to know there's a rogue Hunter prowling the planescape?"

"And what would you have done about it? Likely she's slipped back to the Midden where she is beyond _anyone's_ reach, and unless another Gatekeeper is found, that will not change any time soon."

"The Khan, the heads of the Cabals, the Celestial Council," Billy stammers a little, mentally staggered by the shear volume of supernatural leaders they know, "Did you tell _any of them_?"

"Once I had confirmation, I sent Qrow out. Him and Taiyang both have been making rounds to spread the word."

Billy grumbles, frustrated. "But why wait so long to voice your suspicions? An awol Hunter is nothing to keep secret."

"Well," Willow intercedes, "Raven isn't telling the entire truth." She feels the smallest of tremors when Billy's eyes cut to her. "She has a personal stake in this, it's not just about duty as she would want you to believe." She feels that same shiver again, stronger, when Raven turns those piercing crimson eyes on her again.

"So what _is_ the whole truth?"

Raven is silent, eyes moving from one to another but settling on the shaman. She can't miss the folding of their meaty arms, the way one thumb presses into a tattoo near their elbow. She recognizes it, knows what it does, and secedes to its influence. "Cinder took my daughter."

Silvery brows lift, like Billy's thumb away from the tattoo. "So...Yang?" they turn to look at Willow, accepting her nod of confirmation. They knew the Huntmaster had a child, and knew the Xiao Long clan rather well, but they didn't know the two were connected. "That's why you didn't come forward? Did you thinking moving too soon would put her in danger?"

"She's likely in enough danger already, but yes. It was the only thing I could think to do." Because she knows she's no good at being a mother, but she had to do something to sate that maternal pain in her chest, something the quell the impotence it makes her feel.

Billy snorts, their tone softening a little. "And you call _her_ a fool." they nod towards Willow, clearly unfazed by Raven's explanation. "Though color me impressed that you'd jeopardize your position like this."

The Huntmaster cringes briefly.

"Have you done anything at all, then?"

"Qrow is searching for another Gatekeeper, and I dispatched Madam Goodwitch but have yet to hear back from her. At the moment, that's all I have."

Billy just nods, eyes to the floor. "And you believe Cinder stole the Cornerstone?"

"I do."

"And I believe she was responsible for whatever went down last night, and it wasn't a contract."

"How so?"

"No bodies, although there certainly should have been. What I could make of the scene, someone was trying to get away, and it wasn't my girl. She was giving chase, and if it was a hit on her mate, he'd surely be dead but there's no trace of him. None of his blood was at the scene...but a Changeling's was."

Raven's jaw reflexively clenches, teeth groaning under the pressure. Still, she focuses on the relevant things. "But what would Cinder want with -what I assume to be- a mundane man?"

" _Mostly_ mundane." Billy elaborates curtly. "He's the only son of a Witch, the seventh of eight children, and looks practically nothing like his mother or sisters. There's rarity in that. You know the saying,"

"Rarity follows rarity." Willow finishes.

"And he's warded, mostly by accident as fate would have it."

Raven's dusky brows quirk. "I don't understand."

"Yang put a blessing on him to cure a werewolf's bite, but it never faded. It became a ward on its own."

Raven's nose wrinkles. "That's...unheard of."

"So whatever is up with him, Cinder wants it, and I for-," Billy abruptly stops, one hand smacking their back pocket where their scroll buzzes mutely. They're silent for the few seconds it takes to read the text. "I'm sorry, Madam Schnee, but that was the surgeon."

"Of course, by all means." Willow only nods. "Consider yourself on contract then; seeing as Mr. Nikos is an employee, you'll act as the company liaison to the Hunt until such time as he's found."

"Yes, madam."

"And assure Mrs. Nikos that if there's anything I can do for her,"

"Of course. Good day, madam."

Raven will follow Billy out of the office and into a long, sunlit corridor, not bothering to excuse herself seeing as she doesn't owe Willow such courtesy. It takes some effort to catch up, but eventually she walks beside the hulking Faunus.

"I want to question your charge." She says.

"Too bad." They reply firmly.

"Like you can stop me."

"In fact, Huntmaster, I can." Billy pauses when they reach the end of the hall, long enough to tap the button for the elevator and wait for the chime of the bell. The two step on, though Raven is slow to do so, seeing as she only partly knows what it is. The two stand across from each other. "My girl went through hell last night, only just got out of major surgery. She's severely compromised, her mate isn't here to speak for her, so that responsibility falls to me, and I say _no_. You know how these checks and balances work."

Raven scowls. She hates having the law dictated to her like this. "But the longer you wait, the more her memory might deteriorate. Maybe she knows something that can help us."

"Help us do what? You said it yourself, the Midden is closed, so unless your brother pulls through, all we have to do is twiddle our thumbs and wait for a miracle."

For a moment Raven stares them down as best she can, seeing as she has to look up, seething. Then her expression softens. "What if Cinder took Tag?" something in her revels at the way the shaman's face suddenly tightens, nostrils flaring with a singular snort as they break eye contact. "After all this time it's just as good a lead as any, wouldn't you want to take it?"

They cross their arms and take a deep breath, appearing to shove down whatever they were feeling. "Even if that's true, if Tag _is_ still alive that means she's held on for this long. She can make it until we get there...she's tough."

Raven smirks, actually smirks and shrugs. "I was almost certain you would have caved at that."

"I bet you did." Billy clearly doesn't share the jest. "And that's why I took the last year or so off. With that being said, you're not coming within earshot of that poor kid any time soon. You'll get your chance, just not today."

Raven's grimacing again, her smirk murdered in cold blood at her failed cunning. "Then may I go?" Because with that particular summoning spell, she can't return to Agharta without the summoner's leave.

"By all means. And try to keep in touch better in the future, you don't have to do this by yourself. We're all in this, let us help you."

No decipherable response of any kind, just a swirling mass of blood and shadows that swallows the woman up and dissipates, leaving no trace as the elevator stops and the doors slide open.

Author's note: I know I say this a lot, but this chapter felt pretty trashy. Still, it needed to get out. Writing hasn't got much easier, but I'm going to finish this. At the very least I hope you folks are having fun, even if it isn't my best work. I don't know what's going on, every time I have a string of thoughts together, I sit down and they just fly apart and I forget half of it. Ah well. See you lot next time, enjoy!


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Eleven**

Billy sits quietly in the one chair beside the bed, occasionally looking away from the dim glow of their scroll to the only other person in the room who still sleeps. It's good, they think, Pyrrha needs all the rest she can get right now, but, by the same token, there's a great deal she needs to be told. The sooner the better, but it can wait until she wakes on her own.

The shaman has worries, their brow creasing as they look back at their scroll; there were some calls to make, some theories to consider, words to find to navigate both things -that last bit is turning out to be the hardest part so far. Probably should contact Pyrrha's parents first. Then...

How do you tell the most powerful Witch you know that her only son is missing? In the hands of an Efreet, no less? Of course, with it being Gypsy Arc of all people, there's a chance she already knows all these things...but what if she doesn't? Billy swallows heavily, shaking their head with a quiet exhale.

And Pyrrha. There's such a struggle ahead of her now, the shaman knows. They saw the signs when they first saw her in the dumpster though they didn't want to. It's not uncommon for a lycan's claws and fangs to linger after their first willful turning, but it's been much too long. Even now they can make out the whiteness of too long nails on Pyrrha's hands, the inhuman shape of her lips around too big teeth, and the surgeon had confirmed that her eyes were no different than if she had been about to turn -solid green. After all this, after being drugged and unconscious for hours, all of these manifestations should have resolved by now. It's another conversation they need to, but don't really want to have, mostly because they've had it before, with others, and the matter has yet to end well.

 _I can't lose her like that. Not her, she's too good. I'll snatch Raven's perch right out from under her if I have to...gods have mercy._

They push that out of their head as quickly as possible, instead focusing on something they can control. With care to be quiet Billy rises from the chair and creeps out of the room, mindful of the light from the hallway and quickly closing the door behind them.

The call to the Nikos family goes easily enough, and is more brief than Billy expected. Rhea and Theron would be getting on the next flight out of Mistral, which would likely have them here by tomorrow night at the latest -unless, of course, the airport screws up _that badly_.

Now all that's left is...heavens. They can't remember the last time the idea of making a phone call stressed them out so much. For several minutes they just stare at the contact listing on her their scroll, particularly at Gypsy's name, with their thumb hovering just above the screen. Eventually they do press it.

It only rings twice, and the click of the connection is almost startling.

 _"Shaman Tanka, it's been a while."_

"Oh, I...I didn't know you had my number,"

 _"I have_ everyone's _number."_ comes an unamused reply. _"What's wrong? You only call for a reason, and nothing has felt right so far today. What's happened?"_

"I'm afraid I have some bad news, madam."

A brief pause, then a quick sigh. _"It's Jaune, isn't it?"_

"It is." no point in beating around the bush, not with Gypsy Arc. "He was abducted last night, and I'm with Pyrrha at the clinic in Vale."

The strain of quiet feels like a short eternity. Billy realizes they had been holding their breath the whole time and lets it go when Gypsy continues.

 _"What do you know so far?"_

"I've just spoken with Huntmaster Branwen, she believes it's the work of a defected hunter, and judging by what I found at the scene, she's right."

 _"Does this rogue have a name? Is it Cinder Fall?"_

"I...y-yes, it is. It was the Huntmaster's chiefest suspicion, anyhow. I'm assuming you're mostly up to date on the matter then?"

 _"In some ways more than others. Lord Xiao Long visited me just yesterday to tell me about her, believes she took his daughter as well."_

"Raven mentioned something similar, and that she might be holed up in the Midden. Do you have any idea what an Efreet might want with your son?"

 _"I...not...no, I..._ she's an Efreet _? Gods..."_ There's that quiet again, somehow heavier this time. _"Off hand I can't imagine...but how's Pyrrha doing?"_

"It's hard to say for certain at the moment, but she'll survive. Can I assume the pups are with you?"

 _"They are. I was wondering why they were so fussy last night, guess they knew something I didn't."_ the little chuckle at the end is empty. _"But I get the feeling_ you _know something I don't, too. What's really going on, big-and-tall?"_

They press their bottom lip between their teeth, weighing the words. There's no nice way to put it, no point in trying to. "She has feral fever."

 _"...Oh gods."_

"She had her first willful turning last night, trauma induced." and they assume Gypsy can fill in the rest herself. "It's just onset symptoms right now, but,"

 _"We have to find Jaune."_

"I know. And if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them."

 _"Take care of Pyrrha, when she's discharged you bring her to the Warren."_ It's not a suggestion, not a point for discussion, it's an order and the shaman regards it as such.

"Yes, madam, as soon as possible. Would her parents be welcome also? They're on their way,"

 _"By all means."_ the response is quick, rushed even. _"I have to go. Thank you, Billy."_

Before they can even begin forming the first syllable of "you're welcome" there's a telling _click_. Gypsy hung up.

In the Warren, Gypsy all but marches through her own home with purpose brimming in her strides. She gathers up all of her daughters save for the youngest -Yumi is still just a year or two too young for this, and she needed to watch the twins- and brings them up to her study in the attic. Most of them had never been up here, and the girls take it as a sign that something is very, _very_ wrong.

"What's going on, momma?" Jess asks with palpable reluctance, her long ears low and timid.

Gypsy has flipped the table top again, revealing Zerline's Atlas, her fierce blue eyes focused on the Midden's sigil. "We've got a plane to open. It'll probably take all of us to pull it off, if we can do it at all, but Jaune's life might depend on it. Pyrrha's certainly _does_."

The six young Witches exchange anxious glances with one another before they all look at their mother again. They all nod in unison, then begin preparations for the ritual.

 _(II)_

The last few hours felt blurred together, Weiss can only confidently recall bits and pieces of them. Most of the fragments consist of words and serious looks from Madam Goodwitch, the two of them having spent a great deal of the remaining daylight discussing the finer points of how she and Blake came to be on a closed plane. Beginning her explanation is the last definite thing she remembers, with everything else being...well, it's a mess.

Maybe it was all the raw Fae energy in Glynda's home, something Weiss just isn't accustomed to being exposed to. The house seemed so common from the outside, a rustic cottage of a place if she had to describe it, but all that was tossed aside once she crossed the threshold. Trees grew unimpeded through the floor and into the ceiling, likely punching through to the roof and farther up. The round wooden shutters were always open, making room for the birds and other small animals to come and go as they please. Clusters of wildflowers lined the walls beside bookshelves, filling the house with an incredible fragrance, almost dizzying. Something like fireflies -though Weiss is positive they're anything but- flutter about regardless of the hour; sun up or down, they drift through the air with a soft, pulsing glow. They tend to collect around Blake, who sleeps almost too soundly on a plush sofa, but Glynda assured her that there's no harm in it.

Weiss didn't remember dozing off, but readily accepts that she had when she starts to wakefulness, the room mostly dark with the exception of the cloud of Fae lights (that's what she calls them for now) near the ceiling. She pushes herself out of the cushioned chair she's in, surprised in equal parts by how little stiffness she feels and by the clusters of flowers sprouting from the wood in the furniture. With her arms crossed, almost hugging herself, she eases towards the nearest window, looking out into the deepening night with her gaze fixed beyond the fence for a brief moment. Her drowsy attention is drawn to the silvery haze near the gate, the Reaper looking to hover over the fencepost. Why is it still here?

Weiss hugs herself a little tighter, worrying.

She forces herself to turn away from the window, to try and forget the specter out there to focus on something else. The only other things she cares enough about to give attention to are Blake and Yang, and seeing as Blake is present, it leans more insistently on her. The dancing Fae lights scatter as the Witch approaches, parting like a veil as if to give her leave to occupy the space on the sofa's edge.

She's relieved to see color in Blake's face again and that it's no longer twisted in pain. The faunus' sleeping face holds her attention, strangely alluring as she had always wanted an opportunity to look at Blake more closely. She'd readily admit that Blake is strikingly beautiful, all shadowy intrigue aside, and remembers having caught herself staring more than once since they met only a few years ago -as long ago as Yang and herself had been courting. Weiss chances to smooth her hand over one of Blake's as it rests on her steadily rising and falling stomach. One sable ear flutters and catches the Witch's gaze.

That quick blink of movement triggers a little pinch in Weiss' brow, reminding her of the cut around her eye. She had almost forgotten about it, and it had obviously not crossed her mind to do anything about it until now. Weiss sighs softly, resigned to the fact that it will surely scar, and eases to her feet to find her backpack. Best to just take the edge off the pain, so she finds that blessed bottle of aspirin. She'll manage a pair of tablets without shaking the bottle, but that clearly wasn't quiet enough to bar the breathy chuckle from just behind her.

Weiss turns her head, eyes narrowing on the lazy looking grin on Blake's lips. "What's so funny?" she asks softly, on the chance that she isn't actually awake.

Blake hums in acknowledgment. "A _Witch_ needing aspirin."

One snowy brow vaults after she tips the pills into her mouth and swallows them dry. "Says the _demigod_ who needs Midol."

Blake's ears fold back and her brow furrows, her smirk remaining. "Oof, that's a low blow."

"I could go lower." Weiss grins back.

"At your height, I'm sure you could."

That grin morphs into a scowl. Weiss rises to her feet and makes her way back to the sofa, reclaiming her previous spot. With her hands folded in her lap she waits patiently, practically staring holes into the faunus until she opens her eyes, thin gleams of amber meeting icy blue.

"So you figured it out?" Blake exhales slowly.

"It didn't take much." Weiss tilts her head. "There's a great many things I don't know, but one thing I _do know_ is that sangromancy cannot be _taught_ on this plane or any other. It's an ability inherent to only a few Incarnates...and their offspring."

Blake's ears fold forward and down, she blinks and opens her eyes a little wider. "True enough. Mom earns her nicknames honestly."

Weiss blinks with a restrained surprised. "The Bloodmother of Menagerie?" And that's just the one Weiss knows

Blake nods slowly, then one sooty brow rises. "Is it _that_ surprising?"

"I...well, yes, it is." a little laugh. "To you and Madam Kali's credit, I didn't suspect a thing."

"That's kind of the point. And we'd like it to stay that way." Blake then squints at her, brow furrowed in curiosity. "How's your eye?"

Weiss' hand reflexively moves to her face, almost touching it. "I'll be fine. How about you?"

"Think I'll survive. Lucky for us, Yang thinks scars are sexy. Thank you, by the way."

"Of course," Weiss shifts in her seat, feigning dismissal. "I wasn't about to let you lay there and bleed out, Yang would kill me."

"Maybe." Blake chuckles breathily. "So what have I missed?"

"Quite a lot," Weiss turns to face her, "where do you want me to start?"

Blake thinks for a moment, eyes closed and brow knitting slightly. "What's a Balore?"

The Witch takes a breath. "They were created during the conflict between the Fae and White Witches, centuries ago. They're Sylvans that were heavily enchanted to be direct countermeasures to us...that's how it was able to find us so easily." Weiss averts her eyes briefly. "They were supposed to have all been disjuncted, per the treaty and all that, but..."

"Either one slipped under the radar or it was made."

"Certainly seems that way." she nods. "According to Glynda he was covered in wards, enough to even keep Reapers away from him, but she also said that was serious sorcery that not just anybody can perform."

"Cinder?"

"Maybe, it's hard to say for sure. Glynda's been in her study for the last few hours, trying to dig up more information I'd imagine." Or something like that, because Weiss has been feeling pulses of energy coming from beyond the heavy looking wooden door since the woman disappeared behind it.

Blake's ears cock asymmetrically. "And who's Glynda?"

"She saved our lives. She's also an honorary member of the Wild Hunt, they sent her here -essentially- to do what we're doing."

Blake squints. "How did she get here?"

"It's her home plane," Weiss replies matter-of-factly, "nothing short of a curse can keep her out, but she can't leave, so,"

"Oh...well, shit."

"Yeah. But, let's try and look at the bright side, she's willing to help us, so there's that." She isn't reassured by Blake's lethargic, seemingly fake smile, and the feeling is only driven home with her quiet "woo-hoo". "I think we're doing great for our first day in the Midden, personally."

"Stellar."

Blake lets her eyes close again, lets them stay that way for a while and Weiss takes it as an unconscious signal to be quiet. The silence beckons the low simmering insecurity Weiss has been feeling since yesterday, makes it spike. Her hands start fussing in her lap and she worries her lip with her teeth.

"I dreamed while I was out." Blake exhales softly, but somehow she can still feel a little jolt from Weiss. "I saw Yang."

"You're sure?" she doesn't want to seem too eager, cautious of the emotional commitment. "You lost a lot of blood,"

"No, it was her, we can do that. She's still alive."

"You don't sound...relieved at all."

"Because something wasn't right." she says plainly. "She didn't respond to me, not really. I mean...I think she could sense my presence, but..."

Weiss feels her heart lurch when the words stop, hating to be left hanging there. "What could that mean?"

The Shadowmancer turns her head back and forth against the plump pillow. "It's never been like this. Could be magic for all I know."

"Is...would it be possible for me to dream with you? To see for myself?"

"Not like that."

Weiss looks Blake in the eye, makes sure she's looking back and can see the little fear there. "Why not?"

"The same reason I don't need something like your earrings to sense her." A slight redness blossoms in Blake's cheeks. "Because Yang and I... she's my wife in every way but letter."

" _Oh_." Her back pops impossibly straighter, all the fragments of implication coming together in her head. "I see. She mated you?"

Blake cringes. "Don't say it like that, we're not animals."

"Gods, I'm sorry, you're right," Weiss covers her face with her hands, "I know better than that,"

Blake will let her wear her embarrassment, but only for a moment. "Don't beat yourself up too much, it's been a hell of a day and words are hard." She reaches out and gently touches Weiss' arm, a gesture of amnesty, a little surprised when she's quick to cover her hand with her own. "Still, if I could let you in like that, I would. Yang and I _both_ trust you enough."

"That's...actually very comforting." Weiss straightens again, looking to be smiling in spite of herself. "Can I ask you something...personal?"

"Sure." Blake answers easily.

"Why would you hide that? I mean," she's pauses to find the right words, "I know Yang _adores_ you, I see the way you two are with each other. I figured Yang would be shouting from the rooftops about it." Weiss' icy eyes go low and away again, her heart clutching.

"It's because of my work." Blake smirks again, showing a hint of one fang. "I tend to run afoul of the wrong kind of people too often, neither of us wanted to make our relationship a target. So we keep it quiet, we didn't even really do what you would consider a proper wedding, but it still counts. It's still binding." And Blake watches her, curious of what Weiss' reaction would be. It's not missed on her how the usually stalwart and confident Schnee can't look at her now. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just," there are words, but they're all wrong. "Nothing."

"...Jealous?"

"Of course not." the answer is too quick. "You're both happy, so I'm happy."

"It's okay if you are." Blake has her hand on Weiss' arm again, squeezing a little. "I know poly isn't exactly your forte, but if you're bothered by something, you can talk to me -especially if it concerns me. You and I might not be lovers, but I still care about you."

Her heart clutches again, and this time it's humbling. Weiss takes a deep breath, trying to level herself. "I'm not jealous of you, Blake, I promise." she exhales with an easy, yet seemingly sad smile that she won't let Blake see. "I guess...it's you're bond with Yang, I wish I had that too."

"Hey," Blake tugs on her arm until Weiss turns her head, making an effort to make the softest expression she can. "That's still okay, don't feel bad for something like that. Listen; Yang and I have been together in one capacity or another for a _while_ -almost a decade I think, we've had a _long time_ to build the relationship we have. How long have you and Yang been seeing each other?"

"Gods," Weiss deflates, somehow still pretty and pristine even as she slouches. "Not even four years."

"So give yourselves some time. Every bond will be different when it comes to these kinds of things, but that doesn't make what you have any less special than what I've got. Yang talks about you all the time, she's crazy about you, but she knows you want to take this slowly, too."

"I _did_ tell her that." Weiss blinks at her, a little surprised. "Now I feel ridiculous."

"Don't. I can only imagine the sort of relationships you've had before, but I know they're nothing like this, so I can't blame you."

"...Yang's my first...everything. We haven't even...yet, but...you know."

Blake buzzes her lips. "All the more reason not to be so critical of yourself."

Weiss just nods quickly, looking away again.

There's another strain of quiet, and this time it's Blake that's feeling it. It makes her strangely restless, makes her want to move, but she knows her body just isn't ready for much of that yet. Instead she just keeps her eyes on Weiss, perhaps waiting for something, her ears tuning to the quick breath that makes the Witch's ribs jump.

"Tell me we can do this." Weiss says quickly, her words almost slurring and her voice straining a little. "We can save her, right?"

"Weiss,"

"Because I'm having a hard time believing it. It seems like this mess gets bigger every time we turn around and...I don't know what to do. This isn't corporate gymnastics, or seal weaving, or... _anything_ I've experienced before. I don't think I've _ever_ been this _afraid_." Because she's always had someone; she was never alone in her struggles, and somehow this feels like standing on her own feet for the first time. Her mother and sister had always been there for her, but not now, not when something she holds more precious than anything dangles by a thread, a breath away from oblivion. How do you handle that sort of terror?

Blake's ears fold against her hair and she exhales quietly. "You're exhausted. Come here."

Weiss doesn't resist when Blake tugs on her arm, pulling her down to occupy the little space beside her. The faunus shifts over just a little, as much as she can, and lifts her arm so Weiss can tuck against her side. For a time the two are still, quiet, perhaps mentally trying to navigate how this closeness is supposed to feel.

Blake eventually shrugs, her hand coming to cup Weiss' shoulder. "I wish I had the words you needed to hear, I do. But, even if I didn't I don't know if I could...because I'm scared too. I know I don't show it like you do, but I am. I'm terrified."

Weiss says nothing but somehow settles closer.

"Yang...she's everything to me. She's all I've ever wanted...all I'll ever need. I don't know if...I don't think I can make it if I lose her. But I've got to get through it, nevermind if it's possible or not. I have to fight this with everything I've got, and I hope you'll do the same because I don't have a chance by myself."

After a moment, Weiss shrugs as well, somehow settling deeper, and closer into Blake's side. "Neither of us do." then a little laugh. "Thank the gods we're neck deep in this together, then, huh?"

"Oh yeah, blessed be." The tension breaks and Blake smiles. "Try to get some sleep, princess."

"Only if you come up with a different nickname for me." she prods Blake's ribs gently with one finger.

"I'll sleep on it."

Neither of them nod off right away, though Weiss is better at pretending to. Her eyes are closed and she relaxes enough to drape her arm carefully across Blake's waist, only a little surprised when she doesn't say anything about it. Blake lies there for a time, looking up as the Fae lights start to cloud overhead again, almost blocking out the dim space of the ceiling. When she feels sleep beckoning again, she lets it take her with hopes of reuniting with the golden Dragon in her dreams.

 _(III)_

No surprise or frustration comes in his inability to sleep, nor in the reason why he can't slip under in spite of his great mental and emotional exhaustion. Jaune lies on his back on the adequate bed, the blackness of the Midden's night all around him, his hands resting on his chest and stomach in unconscious assurance that he's still breathing. Occasionally he rubs one hand down his face, presses his fingers into his still tender eyes, grounding stimulus. Otherwise everything is fuzzy, half there, except the ache he feels in his ribs, his skin, his heart.

He misses Pyrrha, and her absence is painfully tangible.

She's all he can think about, even with all the supernatural, bat-shit crazy things he's seen today, his wife is the only thing that stays with him. He doesn't know how to think about anything else. Even though every memory wrenches his heart with grief, he can't help himself.

When they first met; he was mesmerized by the red headed woman dancing with the visiting troop from Mistral at an exhibition. He remembered very plainly how he thought her grace was something _supernatural_ , having no idea at the time just how right he was. He remembers the incredible heat in his cheeks when his mother and grandmother (Maab had been Pyrrha's instructor) introduced them. He remembers how quietly elated he had felt when he learned Pyrrha would be teaching at Fleetwood with him.

Their first dance; Gypsy had insisted she was simply too busy to give Pyrrha an introduction to Caravan and that Jaune would just have to fill in, not that he had any objection at all. By that point he had the makings of a crush on her anyway, but he was able to keep a professional manner. Pyrrha had been patient and eager, a quick study with relaxed strength that he could feel just in the way she held his hands. Looking at them in the mirror, adjusting her form, Jaune saw the most beautiful reflection. Even then. He asked her out after about a month, and he remembers the heat in his face again, and how he found excuse after excuse to keep Pyrrha at the studio late, so he could ask her in private.

Their first date; he had picked her up from Billy's place and still remembers his embarrassment when he asked if that was her dad and she laughed at him. He didn't know anything about lycans or their Handlers yet, so he took her response of "roommate" in stride. _Just until I find my own place_ , she had said, because she had moved all the way from Mistral just before they met. Jaune never suspected she could be telling him the littlest white lie. Even if he had, he would have easily forgotten all about it during their lengthy, enthusiastic conversation over dinner that night. Conversation that continued after he had driven her home, in his truck for the better part of two hours. Driving himself home after dropping her off had to have been the closest he had ever come to getting into an accident because he was so distracted with thoughts of her.

Their first kiss; Billy usually drove Pyrrha most places, but they were late picking her up from Fleetwood and Jaune was more than happy to give her a lift even though it was out of the way. He thinks a part of him was expecting it when she had leaned across the seats to kiss his cheek in thanks, because he had turned his head at the last second to catch her lips with his. It was awkward, both of them had blushed ridiculously -but beautifully. They laughed at each other and then agreed to do it again without a word, and didn't stop until Billy's big SUV crept in behind Jaune's truck and they pumped the horn.

Jaune moves the first time in hours, rolling onto his side and tucking his limbs in close. He shuts his eyes to try and hold onto that, to the softness of the memory that takes the edge off the pain for the time being.

Falling in love with Pyrrha had been like a silly teenage romance you see in movies; sudden, fast and perilous in a way that had never terrified him. Even after she and Billy both sat him down and told him the truth of things. He almost laughs to himself now, recalling how afraid and anxious she looked during that little meeting in Billy's living room. He knew she was expecting him to break up with her, he understood all that once he had a moment to think about it all. Somehow, as silly as it still seems -years later- finding out she was a lycan had made him love her more.

Her name pulses through his mind in time with images of her face from their past, then his ribs clench and the hurt emerges anew. This time it stays, settles in his skin and joints, and never leaves.

This fresh pain crackles through his body at the gentle prodding some unknown hours later, Tag's hand on his shoulder encouraging him awake. Feels like she's got one of those joke buzzers between her palm and his body, but this is far from funny.

"Hey," she beckons softly, "I know you feel like shit...but you've gotta eat something. Come on."

He winces hard with a grunt.

"Whoa, you okay?"

"Don't think so." he twists out.

"Can you sit up?"

"Just stop touching me." he doesn't intend to sound so mean, but it got her hand off him and that was enough. He could apologize later.

Jaune stiffly rolls towards the edge of the bed and away from the wall, working his limbs into place to push himself up, once simple action feeling like a prodigious burden. The meager pressure of his feet resting on the floor sparks new discomfort. Gods above, what it is wrong? He lifts his eyes to see Tag's worrying expression.

"You look terrible." she says plainly.

"In fairness, so do you." as much as he wanted that to be a light hearted jab, his tone failed to convey the intent. "I don't feel good."

"I'd imagine not,"

"No, I mean..." he wants to rake his scalp, frustrated, but he decides against it. It would probably hurt more than help. "Never mind. Maybe you're right. I just...maybe food will help." and he tries to ignore the little voice telling him it won't. Jaune stomachs the pain of Tag's touch long enough to get upright, after that he consciously keeps an arm's length between them as they walk out of the room together.

"Is it your throat?" as soft as she speaks, her voice still echoes in the stone hallway.

Jaune looks at her, tight faced and confused for a moment, then touches just beneath his chin, quickly recoiling at the heated rawness of the skin. "No...well, that hurts too, but," he inches his shoulders in tight resignation. "Is it permanent?"

"Probably. Mine are, anyway." she answers. "The first one she uses to keep track of me, the rest... Likely she did the same to you, you're her _golden boy_."

Hearing all that makes him sick in several ways. He rubs his palm down his face, swallow the crackling discomfort it sparks. "Whatever it is she wants...I don't know how to help her."

"Well," Tag twists to look over her shoulder, make sure no one is there, "that can be both a good _and_ a bad thing. On the one hand, Cinder is certainly _not_ the patient type."

Jaune gapes at her. "And on the other?"

"You being crap with magic," the volume of Tag's voice dips near a whisper, "might buy me enough time to think of way out."

"Any ideas yet?"

"A couple, but you know how it is; once bitten, twice shy."

"You tried before?"

"Yeah. Don't want to talk about it, though, thanks." and she's grateful that he just nods in acceptance.

The two walk the rest of the way in silence, down a spiral of stone steps and then down a long corridor decorated with possibly ancient tapestries. When they reach the heavy wooden double doors at the end, Tag pushes it open, opting to let him in first. She's about to step in after him, one foot across the threshold when she suddenly stops. The short hairs on her tail are standing straight up. Jaune must have felt something too, as he pauses and half turns.

"I-I...I got to go," Tag shudders, "go ahead and sit. I'll be back."

Jaune watches her go at a healthy clip back the way they had come, but she didn't take the weird sensation of static with her. It had settled into the first layers of his skin, making his own hair bristle, and only seeming to edge the aches in his body a little harder.

Still, he'll do as she said and continue on, eyes fixed ahead on the rather large and long wooden table that took up the center of the room. There's food and drink clustered at the far end; nothing he's accustomed to eating for breakfast, per se, but it's food nonetheless. His stomach clenches gently, reminding him he doesn't really have the means to be picky.

He looks the spread over, looking for something that interests him, but nothing catches his attention. He's hungry, but he has no appetite. Part of him just wants to go back to bed. But he'll try again, this time hoping to at least convince himself to drink something. The pitchers are clay and opaque, so he lifts one to his nose and takes a whiff, flinching -who the hell drinks wine first thing in the morning? Certainly not himself. He looks back at the food, spotting a small piece of bread and snatching it up before sitting down and cringing through the crackling ache that little action puts through him. After several seconds of just holding the roll in his hand, he sets on the table, unable to even force himself to eat. Again, all he wants is to return to bed, but he doesn't let himself give up; he sits back in the chair, eyes closed in an attempt to maybe wait for the hunger to surface.

"Good morning," Comes an enthusiastic greeting from across the room, a sound that makes Jaune's heart drop into his shoes with an audible exhale. "Happy to see you found your way; this fortress is a veritable maze in some places. Fae are funny with their architecture."

Jaune says nothing, even if he knew what to say in response to that, most of which made next to no sense. In spite of who his mother is, his exposure to the supernatural was superficial at best. Instead he watches Cinder cross the floor, suspicious of something he doesn't have a name for yet, somehow not at all surprised when she snatches up the bottle of wine once she's within reach of it. Part of him wants to be impressed when she nearly downs the entirety of the vessel's contents, but the notion is quickly squashed when he remembers this... _creature_ murdered his wife.

A satisfied exhale filled with smoke pops out of Cinder's mouth. "I'm surprised the faunus isn't with you, you know each other, don't you?"

Again, silence, just an unyielding, quietly seething gaze. But Cinder doesn't seem to take the hint. His tired eyes track her as she plops down in the chair at the head of the table and grabs a couple bits of food. After a moment he shuts his tender eyes, unable to put up the effort to glare at her out of spite.

But Cinder _is_ paying attention to him, whether he knows it or not. She watches the weary-looking human in her own way, trying to suss out exactly why he slumps like that. She had tracked a great many creatures in her time with the Hunt, but humans weren't a frequent occurrence. Frankly, she knew very little about them. "Is it normal for you to be... _gray_ , like you are right now?" and her tone is one of curiosity more than genuine care. "Is it because you didn't sleep? Humans need lots of sleep, right?"

Jaune's chest expands and contracts with a soft sigh, soft so his bones don't move too much to hurt. His only reaction.

Cinder continues to study him through his silence, her head lilting this way and that, one dark brow cocked higher than the other. As little as she knows in regards to mortals, her instincts are telling her something isn't quite right. Was this grief? Is that why he was so still, so quiet? She didn't understand the emotion herself, though had seen traces of it in the Hunt from others -from those who could actually feel it. But is grief really something that could affect the Scribe in such a way? Able to wield the very fabric of the cosmos and change it at his leisure, and something like _sadness_ was doing this to him? Sadness over a _lycan_?

"It's probably best that you try to eat something," yes, maybe he was just hungry. Humans needed to eat, that much she was sure of. "Emerald should be here soon to help you with your work."

She'll wait, again receiving no reaction. Her expression is a puzzled one as she finishes off the last few bites of her meager but sufficient breakfast, holding steady as she rises from her seat and rounds the table. She moves behind his chair, coming to stand on the other side to watch him a moment more, her arms crossed as her curiosity sours into a scowl.

"What's going on with you?" and just like her expression, all the curiosity has left her voice and has been replaced with irritation. The words have an edge, and she grabs him by the bicep in demand of some sort of reaction.

Jaune jolts, eyes wide and muscles tensing all over at the sensation of being stabbed wracking the nerves beneath Cinder's hands. He shouts, the sound half choking on the poor preparation of his throat for the noise. He jerks against her, wrenching himself free to cradle his arm against his heaving chest, the sharp pain lingering until it fades into a haze of pins and needles. It never fully goes away.

Now _that_ is certainly not something a human should be doing, especially since her intent wasn't to cause him pain. Cinder scowls, seeming to stare holes into Jaune for a few brief seconds before whipping around on her heel and starting back towards the door she had entered through.

Cinder's pace steadily quickens, almost bringing her to a brisk jog before she stops at the library door and all but rips it off the hinges to gain entry. As she crosses the threshold a wave static pushes across her skin, raising the little hairs as well as her wariness. The prickling sensation becomes stronger as she moves passed the shelves of books, snapping against her nerves by the time she reaches the small set of stairs leading down into the alcove. Her previous scowl morphs into a snarl when she comprehends the goings on in the alcove below.

Here the air moves by itself, swirling and disturbing the fire in the hearth, seeming to center on Tag as she stands there, entranced, her brown eyes alight with a bright green glow. The faunus' hands hover before her, open, a sigil drifting in the air between her palms. The shimmering symbol flickers, half steady and teetering between there and gone again. Emerald crouches at the Gatekeeper's feet, her hand moving with practiced ease and quickness, a piece of red chalk tight in her fingers.

"What fresh hell is going on here?" Cinder calls down as she takes the first few steps. "Someone _else_ trying to get in?"

"Not quite," Emerald replies neutrally. Though, in reality, she's on edge, but she's too focused on drawing to let it show. "Not so much get in as..." she finishes a near perfect circle, and with it, the sigil is complete. "Rip the plane open."

" _Excuse me_?" Cinder marches to stand just behind her associate, hands already clutched into fists with her eyes smoldering. "Another Schnee?" and the name slithers tightly between her teeth, the sigils hidden in her skin flaring with a dull burn.

"No, but whoever it is, they're pushing _hard_." It's now that Emerald stands up, cautiously steps back, and waits. The seal between Tag's hands has stabilized.

Cinder looks down to the floor, seeing two clusters of red chalk markings flickering on the stone. "Amplifiers?"

"Like I said, it's big _,_ and I can't even begin to imagine who's doing it." Emerald chances to look at her now, sees the severity of her features, and feels her own doubt mounting. "Somebody's on to us, no doubt about that now." she exhales.

"Then we need to work faster, which is why I'm here. Something's wrong with my Scribe."

Emerald's concern falters into puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

"Go have a look for yourself, I don't know humans like you."

"And what do you expect me to do? I'm not a healer,"

"But you're the closest thing we have to one, so go."

"I should stay here in case-,"

"I can make more amplifiers if she needs them." Cinder bites, the glow of brimstone at the back of her throat that she knows Emerald can see. "Now. _Go._ " And golden eyes track Emerald as she hurries out of the alcove and out of sight.

Cinder's mind buzzes as she waits, arms crossed with fingers drumming her biceps. Emerald is right, she feels; someone knows where they are and what they're doing, and Cinder begins to mentally file through anything she knows could open a plane this way. Cinder knew it would come to this _eventually_ , but she hadn't expected it so soon. She thought she would have at least another day.

She eyes the faunus, more so the seal between her hands, waits for it to begin waning again. But it holds.

Too much is going wrong, Cinder thinks, her brow knitting without her notice. Too much at the same time. The Schnee, the Scribe becoming suddenly ill, now this...had her good fortune finally run out?

No. No, she refused to believe it. The hand with the drumming fingers pauses to smooth across her chest until she finds the braided mane she still wears beneath her shirt, finding comfort in the little pulse of Luck still in it. This is all just some nasty coincidence, all of her progress being balanced out by chance with a few mishaps. Yes, that's all, and this is probably the worst of it. It's a notion she is all the more confident in when the Gatekeeper's seal continues unimpeded, doubly so when Emerald returns.

"So?"

Emerald hurries down the steps, her crimson eyes set warily. "You're right, he's sick."

"Alright, so...fix it." Cinder says like the answer is obvious.

"That's just it, I can't." Emerald says unevenly, like she's afraid to. "He's got feral fever, and you _killed_ the _only_ guaranteed cure."

Author's Note: It feels like a mess, but a good mess in a way. Writing has been super hard lately and it's only going to get harder as work ramps up for the holidays. Thanks for all the support and I hope you all are at least having a little fun.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Twelve**

Cinder just looks at her for a moment, blinking stupidly. "Okay...but it's just a fever, right? Humans get those, don't they?"

"It's not _just_ a fever, not really, it's just the name for it." Emerald does everything she can not to roll her eyes, knowing it would get her a five-finger response. "The amplifiers holding steady?" She asks as she walks around Cinder, eyes on the floor near Tag's feet.

"Steady enough. So how do we fix my Scribe?"

"We don't." Emerald answers pointedly. She's at her table now, going through a cabinet full of phials and sachets of various powders. "All we can do is delay its progress."

Cinder's eyes thin, her expression caught somewhere between dumbfounded and angry. She eventually takes a breath and shrugs out smoke, seemingly just inconvenienced. "So how long do we have, then?"

"It depends; from what I know about it, every case is different. There are a lot of factors I don't know how to measure. And as far as I know, humans almost _never_ catch it."

"So this is like some...lycan infection? Will he turn?"

"No, no, nothing like that. The fact that he _isn't_ infected already still _boggles_ me." She shakes her head in unison with her hand that holds a small bottle that rattles. "But, to give you the best idea, his body is going to start shutting down. He's only going to get weaker from here, and having him work on the Cornerstone is only going to make his condition decay faster."

"So we make him _work_ faster." Cinder says, as if the solution is just that simple.

"He's not trained." the Illusionist quips, pouring several phials' contents into a larger one. She'll pop the cork back in it and start to shake it gently, blending the components. "I scryed his mind and found the magic dormant there, just like you asked, but aside from that, I saw nothing resembling the mind of a Scribe. He doesn't have clue one about what he is."

"... _So_?"

Emerald takes a breath and holds it, popping the cork on the larger bottle at the same time she releases it in a hiss between her teeth. Cinder's inability to grasp even the most basic tenants of compassion is such a _chore_. "Point is, he's going to die. Either the magic kills him, or the fever, but the two together makes it highly likely that he'll die _before_ _you get what you want_."

 _Now_ it appears that the light bulb comes on as Cinder's features stretch. "What can we do to slow it down?"

" _Well_ ," Emerald reaches into the cabinet again, pulling out a rectangle of folded cloth. Unfurling it only a few inches reveals a dried and pressed, but still vibrantly purple flower. "For the time being, I have some potions I could give him to take the edge off; easing the symptoms will help, but not forever. If his _wife_ were still _alive_ ,"

"What difference does she make?"

"The fever is coming from something in his blood, more so, something _missing_ , and just having her here would have helped balance him out again. At least that's what I understand."

Cinder scowls, watching Emerald as she continues whatever it is she's doing. Now she has a large bottle made of opaque brown glass in her hand, pouring what looks like just ordinary water into the other phial. The powdered contents and the pressed flower begin to fizz and hiss, dissolving and turning the once clear water dark blue. She's thinking, thinking hard, until she swears she can feel embers popping in her skull. Her brows knit tight enough to hurt for almost a full minute.

"Wait,"

Emerald stills her hands, looking to Cinder expectantly.

"Something in his blood?" she waits for Emerald to nod. "...You went through his things, right?"

"I did."

"Any evidence of children?" she watches with interest as Emerald's brows rise. "Would that work?"

"I," her eyes dip to the bottle in her hands, her bottom lip tucking between her teeth as she thinks. "It's possible."

"Then I want you on it, I can handle this." Cinder grins. "Should be easy work for you, hunting children is your kind's specialty."

Emerald's eyes cut to her, her brow low in disapproval. "Not _my_ specialty, remember?" she regards the bottle again. "But there's more bad news."

The smirk snaps away and her fingers hook into claws. "What _now_?" Cinder groans, her eyes flaring and her fangs showing a little larger.

"Someone popped all my wards yesterday, that means Adam failed. Probably destroyed by now."

Cinder snarls with a slow exhale, it rumbles through her and makes the fire at the back of throat wax powerfully. That had to mean that damnable _Schnee_ was still alive, and the faint sting of the markings in her skin wasn't just her imagination. And _that_ means she's still not secure; all her work -decades of it- was still balanced on the head of a pin. A breath away from disaster.

The frustration builds and builds, the heat in the room pitching. The tips of her taloned fingers glow like her eyes, red hot pokers that she clutches the edge of the table with, that burn all the way through with a his of smoldering embers. She exhales again, this rumble even louder than the first one and coupled with a rolling wave of jet smoke. She squeezes tighter and tighter, reducing the chunks of wood to charcoal, and then to dust that piles to the floor at her feet. Once empty, one of her sooty, still smoldering hands come up and tears down the collar of her shirt, snatching the stretch of mane in her hands. Even the fire of her own being isn't enough to melt the chain, so she somehow jerks free of it.

Emerald has a fire ward spell primed in her mind, just in case this goes where she expects it to. Though she's grateful Cinder doesn't _actually_ go nuclear, she feels a touch of shame when she throws the mane to the ground. "Luck is fickle, you know that."

Cinder snarls at her, sparks jumping between her teeth, equal parts angry that she would antagonize her with the obvious and frustrated that Emerald doesn't flinch at her flash of aggression. "So. Is. My. _Patience_."

Emerald says nothing more, offering one last neutral glance at Cinder before she turns and heads out of the library, bottle in hand.

When she hears the door open and close, Cinder whips around, her arms crossing her chest that still heaves to push threads of smoke through her flared nostrils. Now she stares holes into the Faunus, gnawing the edge of her lip with one fang. She starts a countdown in her head, not so much actual numbers but in quantities of her good graces. If the Gatekeeper can't put a stop to whoever is daring such an affront by the time said grace has run out, she would stop them herself.

 _(II)_

Waking up is an arduous chore. Sitting up feels like pushing against the world on her chest, and once gravity shifts to start pulling her down by her own weight, Pyrrha's stomach flips. The resulting groan is enough to rouse Billy from their light sleep.

They jerk upright with a snort and a cough, and blink the doze away. "Hey, kid."

Pyrrha holds her head, heeding the instinct to be still. Her only reply is a muffled, breathy grumble.

"How are you feeling?" their face turns with sympathy when they receive another grunt. "Yeah, I figured. Anything I can do for you?"

"...I'm starving." Even though her stomach feels like a bundle of knots, she's already salivating at the mere thought of food.

"Understandable. You burned a lot of calories." They nod, shifting in their seat before standing up. One big hand pulls back to the rear pocket of their jeans. "It's not much, but it'll tide you until I can get the nurse."

They're right, it isn't much -a bar of homemade pemmican- but Pyrrha takes it all the same and all but tears into the plastic bag that contains it. She has never been a big fan of the stuff, but it's better than nothing and has a huge dose of the protein a lycan needs to recover more fully. In her rush to scarf it down she never notices Billy walking out into the hall, but by the time they come back she's swallowed it and felt the atypical lengthiness of her canines.

They close the door gently, sensing sharp or sudden noises weren't going to go over well. "They'll be along in a minute. Expect a little poking and prodding, but after that you'll be able to eat a proper meal." And for a moment they just watch her. It's the roughest they'd ever seen Pyrrha; even after turning she had always kept this strange sophistication about her, but it's...humbling to see her now. For the first time since they'd met, Billy sees the wildness in her, that they see in every lycan. It doesn't suit her at all.

Pyrrha can half-feel the weight of their gaze and it makes her bristle. She pushes a hand through her hair, pulling it away from her face. Then she hugs herself. "Something is wrong." Because her skin doesn't fit right and her hands feel wrong and whatever is up with her teeth is making her nervous.

"Yeah. I know." they shrug, resigned. "Surprised you caught it so fast."

"What is it?"

Billy deflates at the fear in her eyes. "It's...it's a conversation. Maybe you should eat first."

Pyrrha knows that look, that tone, and she trusts Billy's advice. She nods, briefly massaging the back of her neck. "How long has it been?"

"It's your second day here," they reply roughly, sitting down. "Not even noon yet, though."

"...Did I hurt anyone?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Not anyone other than whoever jumped you and your husband. Speaking of which, your mother is on her way, she's agreed to help piece together what happened that night."

Pyrrha just nods, her arm still dangling as her hand cups her neck. She takes a breath, a wince flickering across her face. "Why would anyone do this?"

"We're looking into that, already got some strong leads. If it makes you feel any better, our biggest challenge at the moment is reaching the one who took him."

"It does, actually." though the empty sounding chuckle doesn't do much to support the claim. "Do you think Jaune's still alive?"

"I do." Then once, certain. "If she had meant to kill him, she would've done it."

"She?"

"That's another conversation."

Pyrrha doesn't have the chance to press them for more, medical staff letting themselves into the room more than enough to cut the discussion short. Pyrrha is patient with the doctor as she takes vitals and checks bandages, knowing it's necessary though the feeling of being touched is like sandpaper on her nerves. In the end the doctor says that they'll keep her one more night - "just to be sure"- and send her home first thing tomorrow morning. Pyrrha is relieved to see them leave, happy even when the nurse deposits a tray of food in her lap first.

"I spoke to Madam Gypsy, she wants you to come to the Warren once you're discharged." Billy says once it's quiet. "And the cubs are fine, just in case you were worried."

Pyrrha nods, her mouth too full to speak. After a few seconds of hasty chewing, she swallows. "How is Gypsy?"

"She's taking this as well as you would imagine," their eyebrows rise and they tilt their head, "she sounded awful serious over the phone."

"I bet." she can't begin to guess what her mother-in-law might be getting into as they speak. She takes a couple more bites, smaller ones. "You haven't seen the girls yet, have you?"

"Hm? Oh, no, I haven't."

"Actually, I don't think _I've_ seen you since before they were born. Where have you been?"

"Well, I," they shift in their seat, "I...had do some work on myself, I guess." they eventually shrug. "I couldn't come around after the pups came because I started on T shortly before; you might not have been too happy to see me, all things considered."

" _Oh_ ," her brows rise for a second, realization dawning. Only now they notice the subtle change in their scent. "So...is it _he_ now, then?"

"They is still fine, but I'll answer to either, thank you." they nod, smiling. "Still, just...with Tag being gone...I was having trouble keeping up with my work. I was too vulnerable," they think back to Raven and how she tried to play Billy's heart to her advantage, "almost got myself killed. So I took some time off -I had over four months worth of PTO just with the Schnee Cabal...seemed like a good time to use it."

Pyrrha just nods in acknowledgment, her mouth full again.

"So I got with a councilor, finally got my top surgery, kind of went off the grid for a while to get my act together...it's still a work in progress, but it's working and there's been progress." and the delivery sounds rehearsed, like it's something they've repeated to themselves on more than one occasion.

"That's good, Billy, I'm happy for you."

"Thanks." they chuckle lightly. "I was actually on my way in for my first day back on duty when you called."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's all right, not like it got me in trouble. And it worked out fine because Madam Schnee made me the go between with the cabal and the Wild Hunt, so, you know."

"The what?"

Sometimes they forget just how out of the loop Pyrrha chose to be; on the one hand they can't blame her, but on the other it's an inconvenient thing to have to remember. "Think of them as supernatural police; they make sure all the cosmic laws are being followed and all us non-mundane folks are behaving."

Pyrrha pauses, then cuts her eyes to Billy. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, no, you're fine. The Huntmaster _does_ want to talk to you, but not because she thinks you're a suspect. But that'll keep until your mother arrives."

She nods, visibly relaxing, and goes back to the steadily shrinking pile of food on the tray. Once she's finished she pushes the platter to the foot of the bed, asking Billy to prop up the head so that she doesn't have to lie completely flat again. Her former Handler is visibly happy to help, going so far as the fluff the pillows a little and all but tuck her in. When she's all settled they return to their seat.

For a moment it's quiet, and Billy can almost sense the coming question.

"So," Pyrrha starts, sounding cautious, "what's wrong with me?"

"Aside from taking an arrow to the chest? A silver one?"

Pyrrha blinks, surprised. "Was it really?"

"Mmm-hmm." they nod slowly. "But you were damn lucky; it missed all your vital bits somehow, just hit flesh."

"...Wow. But, yeah, aside from that."

Billy's big chest expands and contracts, their brow furrowing as they hunch forward and brace their elbows on their thighs. "Well, like I said, it's a conversation, but I need you to listen for the most part, okay? Because, the truth is, it's not the easiest thing for me to talk about, and I never thought I'd have to have this talk with you." Because they were convinced she deserved better than this, convinced the universe knew better than to deal her this dirty.

Pyrrha takes a breath, bracing herself. "Okay."

Billy nods, hands folding beneath their chin long enough to get the words together. "It's called Feral Fever. I'm sure there's a more accurate, _proper_ name for it, but that's how I've always known it. I think it got the name from the more advanced symptoms, but you're not that far yet. It's most common in lycans, though anything that turns like you do can catch it, but even then it's fairly rare. I've only seen it three times myself, and...it never ended well.

"It typically happens after serious trauma, though it doesn't necessarily have to be physical. In your particular case, though, it's a mixture of things; you were hurt pretty bad when I found you, but I don't know what injury triggered your turning. That, plus the turning itself, and then your mate coming up missing...it's not good math, kid."

Pyrrha turns away from them, looking up into the ceiling. Her ribs clench and her pulse rises.

"You see, with mated pairs, you both produce hormones and stuff that pass between you, you know, that makes the bond work and so on." they wait for Pyrrha's nod before continuing, reassured that she's still listening. "And after a while, when you're apart, your body starts to hunger for it, I'm sure you've felt it one way or another. That's kind of what's going on in your blood right now; you're not getting what you need to fully recover and you're starved for it. Kind of like withdrawals."

Pyrrha is confident she understands. She remembers when Jaune had to go out of town for work to help out with some sort of disaster relief. It was two weeks without his touch, his scent, and she remembers how everything steadily got on her last nerve the longer he was away. It wasn't as bad as now, where being touched at all makes her want to snap her teeth.

"And this is only the beginning." they continue. "There's no telling how quickly it's going to get to you."

"What's going to happen to me?" She looks at them again, waiting for an answer but only receiving silence as they sit there and scowl, their silver eyes to the floor. " _Billy_ ,"

"I'm sorry, kid. Like I said...it's hard." It takes a moment more but they eventually straighten, propping one leg atop the other as they sit back. "It's going to be like during the cycle; you'll have your heightened senses but you'll be more _sensitive_. In ways you'll probably feel more like the wolf than you ever have in your life, and it's going to be _all the time_. The fever is going to gnaw at you, non-stop, _getting worse_ , and it's going to eat you alive if we can't find Jaune. Without him...well,"

"What?" her patience wanes frighteningly fast when they hesitate to answer again. "I need to know."

A heavy exhale. "I've only ever seen this end one way." they reply, throat gradually tightening. "They all lost themselves...I had to put them down."

Pyrrha's ribs clutch again, tight enough to stop her breath.

"I don't want that to happen to you." they confess, the words deliberate, weighty. "So you're going to have to trust me. I know I'm asking a lot, but I need you to understand that everything I might have to do is for your own good."

Pyrrha frowns, quietly processing and trying get out from under the tightness in her chest. After a moment, she cuts a sarcastic smirk. "Just like old times, then?"

"In a way, yeah, but it's for keeps. I can't just lock you up and wait for sunrise this time. You and I stick close from now on, okay? That way, when... _if_ you get mean, I-,"

"I get it." she cuts them off, pushing one hand roughly over her scalp. "Is there any _good_ news?"

"I think it's good, yeah. Like I said earlier, we have a solid lead on where Jaune is, there's just a shit ton of things standing in the way. But we're doing everything we're able to make progress, I promise."

She nods slowly, trying her damnedest to believe them. "So who did this? I know I chased someone down...maybe more than one someone,"

"You told me about a mask, a white one with fangs and horns. You remember?"

There are flashes in her mind, jumbled but clear as crystal. "Yeah."

"Masks like those are almost exclusively used by the Wild Hunt, and each one is unique to the wearer. You managed to take on a rogue Hunter and live."

"Am I supposed to feel proud?" there's an unusual bitterness to her question.

"I don't know about that." they lilt their head, noncommittal. "In any case, the Hunter was Cinder Fall."

"And what does she have to do with Jaune?"

"Don't know much about that either, but there are theories. We think she may be after whatever it is about him that turned Yang's blessing into a ward." they chance a little laugh. "At this point, all I'm concerned with is getting him back in one piece."

Naturally she agrees, but she doesn't feel the need to say so out loud. Billy knows, just like they probably know the yawning absence she feels without Jaune. His vacancy, his distance -however far it actually is- is tangible, it's a constant, dull burn in her veins. Her skin laments his disappearance with an equally persistent ache. "Is there anything we can do about it? The fever?"

"Best thing for it is to pump you full of as much wolfsbane as you can stand and let you rest until we get your mate back. I know that doesn't sound like a lot, but if you're laid up, you're not stressed with symptoms, and that will buy you more time."

As much as she wished that was comforting, it wasn't. She feels impotent enough as it is. "But...can't I help? You said it yourself, my senses are stronger now, surely that's good for something."

Billy smiles sadly. "I know where you're coming from, I get it, but that's too much of a risk."

"You really expect me to just lay around in a drug-induced stupor until you find him?"

"No, I expect you to trust me like I asked." their tone is more grave now, harder around the edges. "I understand how you feel, _I really do_ , but you _need_ to go along with me on this one. _Please_."

Pyrrha had never heard them come so close to begging before, so close that it's even showing in their eyes. "I...I'm sorry. I just...don't want to do _nothing_. It's _Jaune_ , and...how do _you_ deal with it?"

"I go to therapy." they answer frankly. "A _lot_."

Pyrrha chuffs. "I don't think I have that kind of time."

"...Then I remember the good stuff. I think about all the little things Tag did to make me happy, to tell me she was thinking of me. When we first started living together, and I had local jobs, she'd pack me a lunch and leave me little notes. If I was out of town she'd write me a letter, said I wasn't allowed to read it until I was about to go to sleep so she'd be in my dreams." they laugh to themselves, softly. "Sounds silly coming from me, I bet."

"Not at all, just surprising. You certainly don't seem the romantic type."

"Because I'm not...well, _wasn't_ , anyway. Still...sometimes the little comforts are all you've got, and sometimes they won't be enough, but it's still better than the emptiness."

"I hope you're right." she shrugs. "Do you care if I try and get a little more sleep?" It's not so much that she's tired -she most certainly is- but she more so just wants some peace and quiet and some time with the lights off.

"Sure, kid, I was thinking about going for a short walk anyway." They stand up with a chesty grunt, their joints stiff from all the sitting. "You'll need the energy for when your folks get here too, and you should meet with the Huntmaster if you feel up to it tonight."

"Yeah. And could you call my housemates? They should know what's going on...if they don't already."

"I can do that." They nod and amble towards the door. "I'll be back in a couple hours, okay?"

"Okay." Pyrrha shuffles deeper under the blankets, settling in and trying to get as comfortable as she can. It does nothing for the ache in her skin, but being mostly horizontal and covered up is still a little soothing. "Thank you, Billy. For being there."

"I said I would be. Now get some rest if you can." They switch off the light and shut the door gently, their departure punctuated with a sharp click.

For a long while Pyrrha simply lays there, eyes closed in the hopes of it helping lull her on. It doesn't in the long run, and she never fully falls asleep, but the darkness is kind and comforting in its own way.

 _(III)_

Emerald will find Jaune where she last left him, slouched in his chair at the table, eyes shut and his body drooping. He looks terrible even from here, somehow worse than when she saw him only minutes ago.

Without delay she'll round the table and move to his side. "Hey," And she waits. She won't touch him, knowing it hurts him.

Jaune opens his eyes only a little, enough to see by, and there's a sharpness in his gaze that surprises Emerald.

"Take this, it'll help."

His brow furrows, maybe curious maybe inconvenienced, and he looks at the bottle in her hand as she gestures it forward. "No thanks."

"This illness is going to kill you." Emerald frowns.

Feigned surprise stretches his face and the littlest smirk turns one edge of his mouth. "When?"

"Are you serious? You really want to die?" a strange sort of amusement flickers across her face.

"Especially if it's inconvenient for you and your boss."

That amusement dies, excised like a tumor, and replaced with something...perhaps pleading. "Look, I'm sorry about your wife, but Cinder...all she wants is her freedom. I wish it didn't have to go down like that, but,"

Jaune takes a breath, closing his eyes at the little pain in his ribs as he exhales. "I don't care what she wants. I don't care what _you_ want. And I don't care if it _kills me_ ; I'm not helping you."

Emerald shrugs after a moment, and they stare at each other silently.

Jaune hopes if he holds out a little longer she'll give up, having no idea that her kind simply didn't work that way.

Then, Emerald says, "What about your kids?"

 _What do you mean kids_ is what his brain readies for his mouth, but he bites the words back. Of course she knows about the cubs, probably went through his wallet or something. "They're safe." he responds instead.

"If you cooperate, we won't have to test that theory." because she knows no one in the planscape is safe enough to get away from Cinder. It's only ever been a matter of time.

Emerald watches him, sees that he's weighing her words and considering his pitifully few options. Eventually he pulls his hand down his face, framing his stubbly jaw for a second before his hand drops to his chest and he looks back at her, appearing resigned. She takes this as concession, and does him the courtesy of uncorking the bottle before offering it to him. She's partially surprised that he actually accepts it.

Jaune grips the bottom of the bottle with one hand before bringing it closer, tucking it to his chest. He pinches the neck between the first few fingers of his other hand and tilts it towards his mouth. Then those few fingers are joined by the others, forming the tightest fist he can as he jerks, hurling the bottle along the length of the table to crash to the floor on the far side. Too fast for Emerald to react, too fast for her to stop. She hadn't anticipated it to start with, which was a unique surprise in itself.

She gapes at him. So he _was_ serious? Then she shakes her head and laughs. "Have it your way."

Author's Note: It's been tough, lately, doing anything creative. I've been very down and out and there isn't much I can do except ride the wave until it ends. Maybe that will be soon. At the moment I'm just trying to finish, I need to get it out of my head before it all goes to shit. I hope some of you are still having fun, if anyone is still with me. If so, thank you. See you again soon.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Thirteen**

Emerald shows a reluctant sort of hurry back to her lab, partly because she's thinking and partly because she didn't want for things to go this way. She had hoped against hope that the Scribe would have enough sense not to go with slow suicide, so that she wouldn't have to make good on her threat.

It was a stereotype against her kind that was based in irrefutable fact, but a stereotype nonetheless, and it has haunted her throughout her life. Kept her from being welcome anywhere, kept her homeless and friendless, but kept her loyal to Cinder by the same token. Cinder gave her a place, a purpose and a concrete goal, and that's why she has to swallow this awful taste in her mouth and follow through.

With a bracing breath she reenters the library, taken mildly aback by the surge of energy that washes over her upon crossing the threshold. Not that she hadn't expected it to be there -it had been there when she left- but it wasn't this strong. Coming upon the steps leading down into the alcove, she discovers why and almost swallows her tongue in panic at what she finds.

" _What the hell are you doing_?!" she finally wrenches out, almost jumping the slant of stairs to reach the bottom. "Cinder, you'll kill her! _Stop_!"

"Can't stop once I've started, you know that."

Tag is still hard at work holding the gate ward, with the amplifiers, but the once pristine white glow of her magic has begun to wax harder than before and now seems to fill the alcove with a wash of bloody light. Cinder is at the Faunus' feet, her now sliced fingertip to the stone floor drawing the final stroke of a series of new, Malphasian seals. Once complete, the magic in the alcove heaves, spilling throughout the entire room and shaking anything that isn't bolted down. The Gatekeeper seems wholly unaware of the changes around her, completely lost to the focus on her task even as blood starts spilling from her nose like it's broken.

Cinder takes a step back to watch it all unfold, wanting to take what enjoyment she can knowing this is likely to only last a few moments more.

"Time's too short," she says softly, unbothered. "We have to take what chances we can."

"You _really_ want the Hunt at our door, don't you?" Emerald bites back. She's just over Cinder's shoulder, looking ready to do...something. She wants to, she knows what the spell is doing and what a great risk it is, but if...stopping it now would certainly kill her _and_ Tag.

"If we can't stop whoever is trying _this_ hard to punch through...might as well be the Hunt." She'll wait but a few seconds longer, then snaps her fingers, spattering a healthy glob of blood across her palm.

The seals surge in light and strength, kicking up a howling wind before literally shattering from existence and snuffing out all other magic in the room. The spell had taken every last ounce of energy, including whatever the Gatekeeper had left, and sent it through the connection between the Faunus and whoever was on the other end. If that poor soul was still alive, they weren't pleased with the fact, of that much Cinder was sure.

Tag's eyes roll back in her head before she hits her knees, her hands dropping limp to her sides as she slumps forward to drop on her face. She moves after a few seconds, sluggish, thoughtless, but it's a sign of life that Cinder is satisfied to see. The former Hunter glares at her before stepping forward and crouching down. Using one clawed hand Cinder makes a fist in her shirt and pulls her onto her back.

"So," Cinder looks down her nose, "who was it? Surely you felt something?"

"Cinder," Emerald tries, "give her a minute."

"We don't have a minute." she replied neutrally, but with an edge. She pats Tag's face with a heavy hand. " _Well_?"

Tag blinks, vision swimming and tongue heavy when she tries to use it. She coughs at the taste of copper in her mouth. She just can't make words happen, and even if she could, her brain is so scrambled she can't really remember what words are.

"What difference does it make who it was?" Emerald cuts in again. "It's not like we have time to go after them. The Scribe refused the tonic."

Cinder's head whips to look over her shoulder, irises flaring. She stands up in one quick motion. "You know what you have to do. Anything you need from me to help expedite things?"

"I have everything I need. Just make sure I have a way back."

"I can do that. I'm going to start reinforcing the place, so be fast."

"I will."

All the while, as Cinder starts looking up a myriad of seals and traps to lay, and Emerald goes about scrying for the Scribe's offspring, Tag is left where she lies. After the better part of an hour, she feels her faculties recover, feels like she could get up again, but she waits. Her instincts have convinced her to wait, knowing that once Emerald leaves to do whatever task Cinder has given her, she'd likely be left alone for a good while. Maybe, _just_ maybe, it was the chance she had been waiting for.

Sure enough, after perhaps another half hour, Tag listens for the heavy door of the library to open and close, and then waits another minute just to be certain Emerald is gone on her errand before trying to get up. Gods above is it hard, her body feeling like solid stone propped up on twigs and twine. Gravity tries to push her back to the floor until she gets to her hands and knees, her head swimming again at the spike in her blood pressure from the movement. Tag crawls to the table, mindful of all the glass bottles and phials that rattle as she pulls herself up. She has to stop and catch her breath.

Her vision swims and her balance wavers a little when she starts moving again, starting to rifle through anything and everything. She all but tears open the little cabinets and pulls out the drawers, unsure of what she's looking for but knowing without a doubt that it's _here_.

"Come on-come on-come on," she chants to herself, "come on - _ouch_!"

Tag jerks her hand back, feeling like something bit her and finds a bright red stripe of blood forming between her first two fingers. A clean cut, but this makes her more curious than frustrated. Emerald was too methodical to leave her tools -especially her sharp ones- in what constitutes as little more than a junk drawer. Her curiosity gets the better of her and she decides to have a closer look, eventually pulling what can only be a dagger of some sort from the back of the drawer. It's wrapped in cloth, the tip of the blade just peaking out passed the hem, but that little hint alone is enough to make Tag's eyes widen. Pulling down the wrapping proves that this was no ordinary blade and only reinforces Tag's suspicion as to why it was where it was.

Emerald wasn't careless. She was _hiding_ this. And for damn good reason.

It wasn't a mundane or even metal knife, but Tag knows it could kill just as easily. It was crafted from bone, one solid piece, and from the glimmering golden scales that wrapped the handle, it was clearly a Dragon's bone. The Gatekeeper knows enough about such things to understand that a weapon like this isn't meant for long term, _typical_ use like other blades, but for a specific purpose. A specific _target_. And the best way to make sure your target doesn't find their death sentence is by hiding it in the last place they would think to look.

Tag can't help but stare at it for a long moment, to grip it by the handle and feel the magic in it. It makes her feel bold, _lucky_ , like she could indulge the one horrifically violent urge skating through her mind right now if she tried and get away with it, but she she shoves it down. Instead, her eyes slide away and to the floor near where she had been laying. Near the drying patch of blood her nose had left behind is the braided mane. She immediately wraps the knife back up and and then snatches up the golden braid as quickly as her still unstable self could manage, stuffing both down her shirt in a way tht they won't slip free. Then she makes her way out of the library.

She has an idea.

 _(II)_

Blake expected to feel much worse upon waking than she actually did. She was expecting lingering pain, aches throughout her body, and a migraine akin to the worst hangover she's every had, but that isn't the case. She wakes almost gently, naturally even, and feels refreshed once the lingering drowsiness flutters away with a waggle of her felid ears. Her eyes open slowly, greeted by rays of early morning coming through the window and casting across the room. She follows the bars of gold until her eyes fall across the still slumbering Witch at her side. Her first instinct is to wake her, to get them both up and running so they didn't lose any more daylight, but she feels too comfortable in all this to really heed the notion. At least for the moment.

It shouldn't feel this comfortable, she thinks, Weiss lying here with her like this. Something about it should feel abrasive or wrong, but it doesn't. It should bother her, too, really, but it only makes her curious. It's not that Yang doesn't know about Blake's little crush on the Witch, but Weiss doesn't and they've never had the chance to discuss it and now _definitely_ isn't the time, but-

Weiss shifts against her, her cheek nuzzling the round Blake's shoulder, but she eventually settles without waking. Blake mentally sighs in relief.

 _No, now is certainly not the time. Best to just leave it alone until...well, later, I guess. If there is a later..._

"Ah, so you _are_ awake,"

Blake's ears snap to attention, amber eyes wide as they quickly cut towards the soft sound of someone's voice. She blinks at the blonde Sylvan Fae standing in the middle of the room, meeting her jade gaze. "I suppose you're Glynda?"

"I am." she nods once, then again with a little more force when she realizes a finch has perched on a point of her left horn. "Would you be so kind as to rouse Miss Schnee? There's work to do and not much time."

There's a little, pitiful groan from Blake's shoulder. "I'm awake, I just need another moment."

"There is coffee and a kettle for tea in my study, if that helps."

"Blessed be," Weiss exhales with a tone of gratitude, seeming to have found the energy to rise up and stretch. "Sorry if I crowded you last night, Blake."

"You didn't." the Faunus is managing upright as well, joints popping as she sits. "Though you're blocking me in."

"Oops," Weiss hurries to her feet and then extends her hand. "Need help?"

Blake smirks, mostly to herself. "Much obliged."

"If you would follow me." Glynda requests once her company appears ready, already taking steps towards the door she had emerged from moments ago.

Glynda's study is much like any other; lined with shelves of books and scrolls, framed documents and baubles. Above the well aged secretary, seemingly held up by twisting and blossoming ivy, is a large, ornately drawn map of the Midden, complete with natural landmarks and other points of interest designated by name. The map, naturally, draws Blake and Weiss' attention, but only after they have cups in their hands filled to the brim with their desired beverage.

"Not to be rude, but this is safe, right?" Blake chances to ask before taking a first sip of tea, watching Glynda as she pours her own cup. "I mean, this isn't going to make me grow hooves or anything,"

"Not unless you down the entire pot." Glynda smirks but doesn't laugh. It's a tired question that every visitor she has ever hosted has asked. "Now, to start things off, I was unable to contact the Hunt, so we are on our own."

"Expected as much." Weiss says before taking a mouthful of coffee, resisting the urge to groan loudly at the comforting warmth.

"However," Glynda continues, "for the last few hours, I sensed a _powerful_ concentration of magic and was able to pinpoint it's source." Glynda crosses the floor with even strides, heels clicking solidly against the floor, approaching the map. "Going by what you told me last evening, Miss Schnee, I'd be willing to bargain a chance that if Cinder Fall is indeed involved in all this, she would be here."

Blake and Weiss watch her point to a drawn clearing on the map, an opening in the vast forest that circles what appears to be a brown box -a representation of the fortress that actually inhabits the space.

"What makes you think the two things are related?" Weiss asks.

"Planar energy is consistent throughout the cosmos, to say that it feels the same regardless of the planes one may travel to, and the magic I felt earlier was riddled with it. Only a Gatekeeper can harness it like that, focus it, and I recall a Gatekeeper having gone missing some time ago..." One thin, golden brow rises, Glynda's eyes beckoning for confirmation from at least one of them.

Blake takes a collection of casual steps closer to the map, ears back as she studies it. "So where exactly was it coming from?"

"That's Tinksylvan, built back before the conflict between the Fae and White Witches. It was once the home of the Summer Court and has never been successfully sieged."

"Perfect place for her to hide." Blake says with a touch of cynicism. What she would give for this to get a little easier. "Which way is that from where we are?"

"To the south east."

Blake takes a silent second, weighs the pulsing heat of Yang's energy in her chest. "Then that's where we're headed."

"Indeed, but getting in won't be half as simple as it sounds." Glynda turns to face them. "What do you know about Cinder?"

"Woefully little, only that she kidnapped a Luck Dragon. Yang Xiao Long."

Glynda's eyes widen, her spectacles sliding down the narrow bridge of her nose about an inch. "No wonder you came here so quickly, you have no real idea what you're dealing with."

"Beg your pardon?" Weiss isn't sure if she should feel offended, but a part of her certainly does.

"I figured she's a hunter of some kind." Blake guesses aloud. "Am I that far off?"

"Actually, no. She was once a member of the Hunt, in fact."

"But it's my understanding that _that_ particular occupation is permanent. Even death doesn't break that contract."

"Correct. However, her allegiance to the Hunt was severed when she murdered another Hunter and went into hiding -although, at the time she disappeared, we assumed she had died."

"There being no body should've been your first clue."

"Efreet don't leave corpses."

Weiss sputters on a mouthful of coffee, covering her mouth and not caring a bit that some dark droplets stain her sleeve. When the fit passes, all she can get out of her mouth is " _How could they let an Efreet into the Hunt_?!"

"I haven't the slightest, I wasn't there, but there aren't any cosmic laws against it, so you're guess is as good as any."

Blake just looks at Weiss, felid ears and brows cockeyed as if to beg a question.

"Cinder must have sent the Balore after me, she knows I'm here because I'm a Schnee."

"Like...I know _a lot_ of people have it out for your family," Blake begins with audible effort, "but an entire _race_?"

"It's a long story."

"One that we don't have time to tell." Glynda intercedes. "Though my position in the Hunt is honorary, I'm still bound by certain obligations, and considering she is still alive, dispatching Cinder is one of them. I would appreciate your assistance in the matter if you're willing."

"Of course." Blake and Weiss answer in unison. "But she's going to know I'm coming." The White Witch continues.

"But she won't know of me or Miss Belladonna. I imagine you disapprove of being used as a diversion,"

"It's our best option."

"Not necessarily." Glynda counters gently. "Cinder won't leave the grounds, most likely, and I firmly doubt she would allow you through the gates. More likely to incinerate you where you stand if she's able."

" _If_?" Blake's ears cock unevenly.

"Efreet don't just sense when a Schnee is nearby, but I'm to understand their presence can cause them a considerable amount of pain. However, Cinder may have developed a tolerance for it -such things are common in the Hunt's training repertoire. I'm just trying to account for everything that will make things difficult for us."

Blakes ears flit upward as she weighs the notion, then nods. "Fair enough. And considering all the sigils on the Balore,"

"I'd be willing to bet on her having secured Tinksylvan in a similar fashion, maybe even more so considering the sort of wards I found."

"What do you mean?"

"There was one in particular that very few people are capable of casting, both because of its difficulty and because of the regulation by the Powers that Be. Miss Schnee, you saw how the Reaper only appeared after the last ward had been dispelled, yes?"

Weiss blinks at her once, perhaps surprised to be addressed. "Y-yes, I think so."

"That's because it was a -aptly named- Deathward. It protects the marked object or person from any and all supernatural means of destruction. Hunters are forbade from learning it, so that means she has an expert spell weaver under her control."

"And that only makes things worse for us." Blake finishes. "No way of knowing what sort of _precautions_ she's laid in place."

"Indeed."

"Sigils and disjunctions are my specialty." Weiss says confidently.

"And while I respect your capability, I don't think you fully grasp just how out of your league this mage could be."

"It doesn't matter." Weiss looks back at her plainly, eyes almost soft. "I still have to try."

"Miss Schnee,"

" _Madam Goodwitch_ ," all that softness is gone in an instant, her eyes now icy, edged. Blake sees it and her ears slant back. "Cinder took someone I love, and I mean to get them back -Cornerstone be damned. Now, I'm acutely aware of just how unprepared and inexperienced I am, as well as just how painfully high the odds are stacked against us, but would you be so kind as to allow me _one moment_ to believe that it's possible?"

Blake's gaze skates between the other women in the room, anxiously back and forth as she feels the tension in the room tingle across the fur on her ears.

"I am in no way ungrateful for the information you're so freely sharing with us, but it seems as though all you're telling us is that this is a fight we can't win. And if that is the case," Weiss stands up, back straight and frame square. Somehow such a petite woman pulls off an imposing air flawlessly. "I will thank you for your generosity and be on my way."

Glynda appears fazed for all of a second before she meets Weiss' posture with her own, just as square and just as stern. "I'm merely bringing to your attention the truth of the matter, I never meant to make it seem impossible. The fact that the two of you made it this far on your own is a testament to your resolve, and I apologize for not making it more clear that I am taking that into account."

"For a Fae, you're awfully grounded." Blake smirks.

"I'm not your typical Fae, in fact I'm only _half_ Sylvan, but that is beside the point. Between the three of us we have an honest chance of, at the very least, getting inside. But it will have to be fast with next to no margin for error."

"So business as usual." The Faunus chuffs.

"Quite." Glynda actually grins. "We can hammer out the details of just how we mean to do this on the way, but in the mean time I have a few preparations to make and suggest you do the same if you need to."

The three of them leave within the hour. Glynda is strangely unbothered by the Reaper that still lingers near the swinging gate of her fence, ignoring it completely as she passes it. Weiss and Blake follow her closely, obviously wary of the specter, especially when it follows them into the shadows of the forest before vanishing.

 _(III)_

"Which of you is it now?" Billy asks with their scroll to their ear. It had been Gypsy's number, but it wasn't her voice coming from the other end.

 _"It's Jess, the eldest, remember me?"_

"Ah yes, I do, my apologies." they nod, a little embarrassed. But with a family that big, how does one expect to keep track of them all? "Is everything all right?"

 _"Not really, I mean...it's not super serious, but enough for mom to have me call. She'd do it herself, but she's...having a moment."_

That immediately puts the Shaman on edge. "What happened?"

 _"Mom told us about Jaune, then she got us all together to try and open the Midden ourselves."_

 _Gods have mercy_. "Is Gypsy okay?"

 _"She needs some time, but she'll be fine."_

They sigh with quiet relief. "Good to hear. But I don't suppose you were successful, were you?"

 _"Afraid not."_ she shrugs. _"Whoever is keeping that plane shut off sent our magic back at us, **hard** , and with interest."_

"How so?"

 _"Malphesis. It was an **actual** counter spell."_

Billy nods again, though not out of any form of satisfaction. Now they're scowling.

 _"Mom got the worst of it because we were channeling through her, but we all felt it."_

"Are the pups okay?"

 _"Yumi managed to put them down for a nap, so they're probably the best off out of the lot of us. This migraine can't go away fast enough."_

"If you have any Celestial texts on hand, reading them should help with that, so long as they're genuine."

 _"I'll look into it. Oh,"_ there's a pause, some voices they don't quite catch, but then Jessica comes back, _"Mom's speaking Common again and wants to talk to you. Here she is."_

They wait patiently, expecting the silence to last longer than it does.

 _"You there?"_ the question is breathy and rough, like she has to make a conscious effort to conjure the words.

"I am. Glad to hear you're all right."

 _"After a fashion, yes."_ On her end of the line, the Witch has her head tilted back and her eyes closed, riding out the throbbing pain and holding a kerchief to her still bleeding nose. _"Everything at the hospital going as expected?"_

"It is."

 _"Still on schedule to come tomorrow? How soon?"_

"Ideally we'll be heading out first thing in the morning, but I'll be sure to contact you once we're on our way." They wait, hearing nothing for a few seconds. "It may not be my place, madam, but you shouldn't have taken such a risk without letting any of us know. Especially the Hunt."

 _"Raven would have tried to stop me,"_ Gypsy explains, not a hint of remorse to be heard. _"You would have too, and I just couldn't abide by that. Powers that Be punish me if they see fit, but that's for them to do on their time. I'll not sit idle while my children are at risk."_

"Understandable." it's their only answer, knowing arguing is pointless.

 _"Speaking of which, how's Pyrrha?"_

"Her family should be arriving any minute."

 _"I didn't ask about her family."_

Billy takes a breath. "She was awake a few hours ago, talking well enough, seemed put together all right. Her physical symptoms are still low on the radar, so that's good, but that doesn't say much for her stress levels. Try to have a quiet place for her to hunker down until I've got a better idea how fast the illness goes."

 _"I'm not putting my daughter-in-law in a cage."_

"I wasn't suggesting that you do, I'm just telling you what she needs. I trust your judgment. And, if it's all well with you, I'd have her housemate Ren join us. I understand he has a way of keeping her calm."

 _"Oh, well, of course. I'll just...I got time to tidy up the place, don't I?"_

"I'm sure you do." they can't help but grin a little. "Though I don't think he'd hold it against you if you didn't."

 _"Nonsense, it's not every day I have a prince in my house."_ There's a half formed chuckle, almost nervous, and then a soft clearing of her throat. _"One last thing before you go, big-and-tall."_

"Hmm?"

 _"I know it was Cinder that sent that crow-curse at me, all fire and brimstone and such. But there was something else."_

Billy holds their breath. Gods above, not another mess.

 _"It was your girl, too, I'm fairly certain. She's alive."_

They start to say something, the words perched on their tongue for only a split second before they vanish. They're silent, everything feeling surreal until they notice their heart pounding against the breath they were still holding in. "I, um," they clear their throat, hoping their voice won't break again, "y-you're..."

 _"You don't have to say anything, I just wanted you to know. Thought you could use a little hope."_

"I...thank you, Gypsy." they feel like there's more they should say, but can't seem to drag it up through the mild thickness building in their throat. "Thank you. I'll see you soon."

 _"Take care."_

"You do the same." They're hand shakes as they touch the screen of their scroll and end the call. For a long time they just stare at the reflective surface of the device, stock still and lost to this feeling that keeps their heart pounding. It probably would have kept them stuck there for the rest of the evening if one of their tattoos didn't start to buzz in their skin.

They turn to see a pair approaching from the far end of the hall, just having stepped off the elevator. Rhea and Theron Nikos cast an incredible silhouette, together or apart, but certainly more potently together as they are. Theron is more than a head taller, and broader than his wife, her Sentinel, and his incredible scarlet mane and curled ram's horns make him seem enormous in comparison. Bronze tattoos streak his body in constellations and astrological symbols.

What Rhea lacks in stature she makes up for in sheer presence. Her back is always straight, shoulders square, chin slightly lifted with her one eye set firmly ahead, set with purpose. Her sari is semi-formal because she refuses to be seen in anything less, a way she expresses her demand for a certain degree of respect if in no other form than distance.

When they're close enough, Billy greets them in a sort of customary way -Theron calls it old fashioned, but that's just Billy's nature- bending at the waist and offering a phrase in Mistrali that Rhea returns. She's a little old fashioned, too.

"I appreciate the effort you made to be here, Madam Nikos."

"Thank you for reaching out to us." Rhea replies, and though her tone has a certain firmness to it, they know that Billy knows there's nothing meant by it. "How is she now?"

"I was about to look in on her, actually. Let her rest a while so I could catch up on some sleep and a meal, wanted to wait for you before I went back in."

"Anything new since we spoke last?" Theron asks, his brows lifted, eyes hopeful.

"Some things, yes." Billy nods. "But I figured it could all wait a minute or two; I'm hoping some time with both of you will do Pyrrha some good, help ground her a little before I summon the Huntmaster."

"And you have our utmost gratitude for allowing us to be here for that as well." Theron assures them. The Nikos' know enough about Raven to be justifiably worried about their daughter being subjected to her scrutiny.

Another curt nod. "But I'll be frank with both of you; the symptoms seem to have taken a jumpstart, but she's still very much herself, so it could go either way right now. Once we get her home and away from all this interference I'll be able to gauge it better. Although, at the moment, I'm just focused on getting her through tonight."

"Fair enough." Rhea accepts. "So, may we...?"

"Of course, right this way."

They go only a few doors further down the corridor, letting Billy lead them in. They let the door open wider, letting the less intense light of afternoon filter in so they didn't need to switch the internal light on, risking waking Pyrrha too suddenly. They call to her in just above a gruff whisper, on the chance she's already awake, but receive no answer. Billy lets her parents pass, thinking maybe they could rouse their daughter; it's always better to wake up to faces you know.

Theron is especially careful and quiet, at least until he finds the emerald pinpoint eyeshine in the dimness of the room. He has to put a little effort into his smile, has to cover up the worry he feels, and hopes she doesn't notice. "Hello again, sweetheart."

Pyrrha smiles back at him, letting him see her fangs. "Babba," She reaches for him, arms open in hopes of his embrace. She's hoping it doesn't feel abrasive like touching has felt all day, quietly grateful when that hope becomes real. Gods above she needed this. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Of course." he squeezes gently before straightening, but still hovers over the bed a little. "Wish it were for better reasons." Then he steps aside when he feels Rhea closing in, makes room for her.

"I'm gonna turn the light on, kid." Billy warns, their big hand already by the switch.

Pyrrha shuts her eyes, even tucks into her mother's shoulder as they hug. "Go ahead." When she lifts her head again she squints and blinks, her eyes more tender than she expects.

"Did you get any sleep while I was gone?" the Shaman asks.

"Not really," she presses at her eyes with her fingers, mindful of the claws. "Just dozing, trying to relax."

"That's good. You hungry again yet?"

"...Maybe?" her stomach is a little uneasy, but she wouldn't call it hunger. "Though, I imagine I will be soon."

Billy just nods, making a mental note. "You want to eat before I summon the Huntmaster?"

Pyrrha feels anxiety touch her heart, a blossom of heat in her ribs. "Do you think I should?"

"No telling how long it will take, how hard it'll be for you."

Rhea raises one sable brow. "Shouldn't take that long; all Raven needs to know is what happened, and I can do that in just a few moments. No need for her to stay any longer."

"But I would imagine both Raven _and_ Pyrrha will have a number questions." the bison's silver eyes linger on their former charge, looking for some kind of validation for the assumption. "And they're the only ones with the answers. Well, most of them, anyway."

Rhea scowls a little, how much sense Billy is making leaving a bitterness in her mouth. "So be it." she shrugs eventually.

Author's Note: Writing is still really difficult these days, but I'm getting along. I'm only so sure about what's coming next chapter, but I do know that a lot of exposition is coming. We'll finally learn most, if not all of Cinder's story, more so the story of the Efreet, and I'm hoping to finish the set-up for the climax. I say we're two-thirds through now. I'm also wanting to do a bees-schnees spinoff once this done, for fun, since I've never written for a triad before. I don't know. Hope you're all still having fun and thanks for reading.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Fourteen**

Pyrrha takes Billy's advice and eats before her meeting with the Huntmaster. She doesn't know what to expect, having never even heard of such a person, and rushing blindly into a potentially lengthy back and forth with a total stranger sounds like a disaster looking for a place to happen. Though her parents are here and their joint presence is surprisingly comforting, Pyrrha can't shake a buzzing tension that has settled into her skin, too deep to reach.

 _You're sick._ Her mind pulses. _You're a ticking time bomb._

It's true and she knows it, though she hates the idea. She's spent her whole life trying to keep it together, to be so believably human. Now none of that matters. Now it's just a matter of time until she snaps. Gods, is this what it feels like for Betas?

While she eats, Billy does their best to prep her for meeting Raven, starting out with a brief history of the Wild Hunt and the gravity of its leader's position.

"She commands a great deal of respect of supernaturals, mostly out of fear, but," they inch their shoulders, "so she'll expect you to treat her a certain way. You're easily the most polite person I know, to a fault, even, so I don't think you'll have trouble with that much."

"So what am I supposed to be worried about?" Pyrrha asks before taking another couple of bites.

"I doubt you've met someone like Raven before, certainly not a supernatural like her, so my main concern comes from that, as well as what affect her presence might have on your...condition. She's an _actual_ demon, and that sort of energy touches everyone differently."

"But we're here," Theron counters gently, having managed to fit himself onto the bed next to Pyrrha, keeping close to her. "It won't be so bad, will it?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Still, with that being said, you can expect her bedside manner to be...less than gentle. She has questions, she expects them to be answered plainly and quickly, and she hasn't much patience for anything else."

"She may just have to deal with that this time, Shaman." Rhea says. "I'll not sit here and let her badger my daughter."

"I don't expect you to." Billy shakes their head. "But a little sympathy on your part would be appreciated, Rhea; Yang is missing and likely in the thick of this mess as well."

Rhea blinks, surprised. "Oh, I...I see. Well...I'll do my best."

"Wait," Pyrrha swallows. "Is...Yang Raven's daughter? I knew Yang and her mom didn't really...have a relationship, but,"

"It's a complex matter to say the least." Billy nods once, slowly. "But that isn't why she wants to talk to you, Pyrrha, so it's best you not bring it up."

Pyrrha just nods, finishing the last few bites of food. She wallows and sets the tray on the small table beside the bed. "Let's get this over with."

"Gimme a second." Billy will step out into the hall, pulling the black feather from their pocket as the door clicks shut behind them.

Pyrrha takes a deep breath.

"You still okay to be touched, sweetheart?" Theron asks, his tone soft as always, at least when he talks to her.

"Sure."

"Let babba hold you a while then, okay?" he's moving before she can answer, but not so quickly that he can't back away if she says no. Which she doesn't. "Just want you to be safe."

Pyrrha accepts it, letting him squeeze in behind her. He'll pull her against his chest, his legs stretched out on either side, and his hands fold over her stomach. There's a shift of energy in the air mere seconds after the two settle together, making the bronze filigree in his skin flare gently. She feels her father kiss the top of her head, keeping the fresh anxiety in her chest from getting any bigger.

Pyrrha feels the _presence_ Billy had mentioned, it's a cold breath against her throat when the door swings open again, Raven striding through first. Pyrrha had expected several things in regards to the Huntmaster's appearance, but none of them resembled something so _human_. Somehow that makes Raven more unsettling to behold, makes Pyrrha noticeably stiffen in her father's embrace. Raven's eyes carry the most weight, telegraphing everything she is when Pyrrha meets her gaze. After several seconds of simply holding that look, her lycan senses are on full alert, and Pyrrha finds the least terrifying thing about Raven to be the sword on her hip. _That's an actual sword..._

Raven settles to stand at the foot of the bed, sizing Pyrrha up from there with her crimson eyes hardly straying from her. Her own senses bristle at the Sentinel in the room, but she ultimately ignores him. He's not the one she's here for.

"Huntmaster Branwen, you know Rhea and Theron," Billy tries at formalities, introductions. "This is their daughter, Pyrrha."

Raven nods, an acknowledgment that is returned. "Is it necessary that they be here?"

"Not necessary, but convenient." Billy assures her gently, already feeling a bubble of tension forming in the room. "I thought it would save some time if Madam Nikos helped get you the information you want."

"I suppose." Raven agrees, sounding reluctant. "Very well. Though I don't understand why we couldn't have done this when we spoke earlier."

"Rhea wasn't here."

"And she isn't the only Seer in Remnant, much less this city."

"And you're not the only Hunter I could have summoned for this; I could've just as easily called Qrow, but out of _respect_ I waited so that you could deal with this yourself. Please don't throw my consideration back in my face." the Shaman counters confidently, but still gently, which somehow appears to drive it harder home.

Raven silently concedes. "...My apologies. Then, if Madam Nikos would be so kind, could we move on?"

"I have questions." Pyrrha blurts out. She can't help herself, having had enough of feeling alone in a crowded room and talked over.

"As do I." Raven answers smoothly. "But let me see what you have seen, and we can continue from there."

The Huntmaster removes the steel plated leather glove from one hand, tucking it beneath her arm as she rounds the bed to stand beside Rhea. She glares at Raven briefly, her singular gaze going from her face to her now bare hand and then back again.

Rhea now looks to Pyrrha, her expression as soft as she can make it. "Are you ready?"

Pyrrha nods, unwinding one arm from the tangle of limbs she and Theron have made of them. She'll take her mother's hand and hold on tight.

"Just relax, think about that night and focus as best you can."

Pyrrha nods, taking a breath and closing her eyes.

Rhea looks back to Raven and extends her other hand. "Look but don't touch."

"I'm aware." she simply rests her palm atop Rhea's, feeling the smallest of static snaps at the skin-to-skin contact.

Seers and Oracles are similar, but only in regards to being able to find things that others cannot. Oracles are very much at the mercy of their trances and can't filter whatever they received from the cosmos, but they can see the future. Seers, on the other hand, while not having as great a reach as Oracles, could consciously seek out and collect specific information from both past and present. In this case, Rhea would be able to witness the events of two nights ago all but first hand -and with luck- without any interference and distortions due to trauma.

Pyrrha isn't worried by the mental touch she feels, she knows it well. She had been subject to her mother's magic several times before, whenever she managed to slip away from their watch under a full moon; it gave her peace of mind for Rhea to be able to tell her if she had hurt anyone. This is no different, but there is still discomfort as they continue. The anxiety comes from reliving that night, from watching it unfold and feeling her instincts sounding off in warning all over again. From feeling helpless.

The power shutting off on their way out of the club, the woman they met on the sidewalk -she feels a mental tug at that memory, was it from Raven?- and then everything spiraling out when she remembers the awful breathlessness following a metal spike through her gut. From there the images are less clear, but not too much. Everything is still discernible through the haze of lunacy, but begins to wane when Pyrrha remembers the ash wood dust being hurled into her face. Hard to see a visual memory that the brain was unable to make. But what is there is more than enough; as far as Raven is concerned she has seen all she needs to.

Raven pulls out first, blinking like the room's too bright for a few seconds. Though the magic ends, both Rhea and Pyrrha appearing awake and aware, their hands stay clasped a moment longer; Rhea's feeling her daughter's residual fear and pain and it's clawing at her heart.

"Was it Cinder?" Billy asks, the tension beneath the growing silence snapping.

"It was." Raven exhales. Her brow and fists tighten in tandem, shame and anger surging in her chest. _And that god damn Changeling._ "I'd know that mask anywhere." as each one is unique, even hers and Qrow's in spite of them being twins.

"What does Jaune have to do with this? We don't," Pyrrha sputters, trying to find the words, "he doesn't have any enemies. And I _mean_ that, he's never hurt a soul."

"The other woman in your memory, the one with the glasses," Raven pauses, waiting for a nod of confirmation that Pyrrha is following, "I don't recognize her, but those belonged to the High Minister. _Is_ your mate mundane?"

"O-of course he is." if anyone knew any different, it would be her.

"But he has a Dragon's ward on him that wasn't originally a ward. It just happened to turn into one on it's own?"

" _Yes_."

"What are you thinking, Raven?" Billy intervenes, feeling an edge to Pyrrha's tone that they don't like the sound of.

"I'm thinking he's related to the Cornerstone in some way, perhaps even the Scribe himself."

Billy scowls, like they had been thinking it too and hating it all the while, the others in the room seem to gape in quiet surprise. "Gods' grace," Rhea gasps.

"...Can all of you pretend for a moment that I have no idea what you're talking about?" Pyrrha feels her father's arms tighten, making her notice how the volume of her voice has changed, has elevated. She adjusts accordingly. " _Please_ explain this to me, all of it." Now it sounds more like she's begging instead of making demands.

Raven takes a breath and nods, seeming to prepare herself for a story she's tired of telling as she fits her armored glove back onto her hand.

"Cinder Fall is an Efreet, a sort of Djinn from the Plane of Fire. An evil spirit, if that's simple enough a term, and incredibly powerful. Long before anyone in this room was born, they were free to roam the planescape, and, overtime, formed a habit for harassing humans. They're not pleasant creatures in the first place, but their dealings with humans were exceptionally cruel; they found mortals easy to exploit and did so at their leisure with nearly no consequence. That is, until the balance of the cosmos was tipped too far.

"The Powers that Be demanded there be some sort of compromise, lest the Efreet be wiped from existence entirely; that's not a threat made lightly by _anyone_ , much less the Powers. Story has it that Zerline herself dictated terms on behalf of the Powers for an entire year before the Primarch of Fire conceded. His kind would be stripped of much of their power, bound to a more human form, and be marked as such that others could easily identify them and, hopefully, steer clear of them. But, by the same token, the Efreet were granted several concessions in turn, such as protection from certain spells and other supernaturals."

"And what about the Cornerstone? What is it?"

"The Cornerstone came into existence shortly after the birth of the cosmos, it's a physical manifestation of the energy and matter that makes up creation. It contains all the laws that holds reality together, makes it work the way it does. And, in order to maintain the balance, only one being is able to alter it. The Scribe."

"But, Jaune...he's never," Pyrrha feels Theron hold her a little tighter again, but this time in comfort instead of warning. "He's just a _man_."

"Perhaps, but part of him certainly isn't." Raven continues. "The Scribe is reincarnated time and again, ensuring there will always be one - _but only one_ \- and there's no way to know when he appears. For his protection, only two beings in the cosmos have any information as to his and the Cornerstone's location at a time, and they too are chosen at random. Though," the Huntmaster pauses, thinking - _rarity follows rarity_ \- "there are suggestions of a pattern...or a method to finding them."

"Like those glasses you were talking about?"

"Not directly, but yes."

"Cinder...does she want Jaune to change the Cornerstone?"

"Most likely. If I were to guess, she wants him to unmake the laws that bind her."

"...So she won't kill him?" she asks hopefully.

"As long as she believes he's of use, no, I don't believe so." and it's strangely comforting for her to see Pyrrha physically relax at her words. Is that all this lycan really cared about? Nevermind the cosmos or the balance or Powers, she only wanted her mate back safely? Oh, to have such simple desires.

"But, knowing what we know, even with his bloodline," Billy interjects, "Jaune's still in a lot of danger. He's not trained. Even if Cinder can awaken his powers, he's at serious risk."

"I know." Raven replies neutrally. "But, now that I have concrete evidence, eye-witnesses, I should be able to convince the council to let us move against her directly. We can ask the Powers to open the Midden by force."

"Do we have that kind of time? If what Willow said is true, and Weiss made it through, Cinder knows _someone_ is coming for her. She's going to feel pressure, and that's going to make her rush. That's going to get ugly _real_ fast."

"That's why I'm going to do my best to move faster." Raven assures them with a curt nod. "Provided I'm allowed to leave _now_."

Billy meets the eyes of the others in the room, specifically Pyrrha's. "Is there anything else you want to know?"

Pyrrha thinks, her brow furrowing over her worry laced eyes. Her fangs catch her lip before she looks to Raven. "How was Cinder able to do all this? Not what, but _who_ is she?"

Raven's lips thin into a line, displeasure flickering across her face. "I need to-"

"You _need_ to answer my question." Pyrrha bites back. "Everything about you tells me you're the _expert_ , that this shouldn't have happened in the first place, but it has - _on your watch_. I want to know _why_."

Raven scowls harder, her crimson irises seeming to wax darker somehow. "Cinder _was_ a member of the Hunt, the first and only Efreet to do so. The Huntmaster at the time must have been convinced she was trying to prove herself, perhaps trying to escape some of the stereotypes around her kind, but she was just infiltrating us. All our training, all our resources...she used them against us."

"And she just...got away with it?"

Raven takes a breath. "...After she murdered my first lieutenant, yes." Then she exhales, nostrils flared, like she's mitigating pain. "We had thought Cinder dead until she resurfaced nearly two years ago, otherwise we would have been actively pursuing her. I know what you're getting at, lycan, and you have every right to cast blame on me, but I cannot do anything more about the matter until I am allowed to leave."

Pyrrha blinks in mild surprise and then fawns, seeming to retreat into Theron's embrace.

"If that's everything?" Raven asks, seeming to address everyone. Then she looks to Billy, expectant. "Shaman? Satisfied?"

"I suppose so. If anything new comes up on this end I'll be sure to get it to you as soon as possible."

"Very well."

"Happy hunting, Raven."

There's a grunt of acknowledgment as the Huntmaster twists on one heel and leaves the room in a poorly concealed rush. Thankfully she takes her daemonic energy with her, allowing everyone else to breathe a little easier once the residual flux of Raven's departure dissipates.

Pyrrha feels exhausted again, her heart thrumming as if she had just run around the block. Had it been doing that this whole time? Gods have mercy, if she ever had to be in the presence of Raven ever again it would be too soon.

"You did good, kid." Billy says softly, giving Pyrrha an approving smile.

"I don't feel like I did." She shakes her head. "And that's Yang's _mother_?" Mind you, she didn't know Yang nearly as well as some people, but she knew her well enough to have trouble seeing any resemblance between them.

"Birth mother." Billy explains with a lilt of their head. "Still, I'm proud of you, most people are too scared to speak at all when they meet her the first time."

"I'll believe it." Pyrrha lets out a puff of air. "So what do we do now?"

"Now, you _rest_." the Shaman says plainly. "I've got a room at the hotel across the street, so I won't be far, but I need some sleep myself. But, Rhea, Theron, you're more than welcome to join me there, the room has two beds."

"After traveling all day, that sounds wonderful." Rhea deflates, finally letting down that lioness' air that she had been projecting all this time.

"Would you stay with me, babba?" Pyrrha looks up at him, a little puppy-eyed.

"Sure, sweetheart, so long as the doctors don't mind."

"Considering the circumstances, I don't think they will." Billy assures them, feeling a little relief themselves at seeing Pyrrha relax a little more. "I'm heading out, but feel free to visit a little longer. Just text me when you're ready to come up, Rhea, and I'll let you in."

"Thank you, Billy." and they can hear that her gratitude is much farther reaching than just the invitation for a bed.

The following morning starts rather early, just after sunup when Theron calls Rhea. It's a short conversation, mostly him letting her know that the doctors are about to give Pyrrha one last once-over before discharging her. Rhea just nods, telling him they would be there as quickly as possible before saying "I love you" and hanging up. Billy's slow to wake, but once Rhea can get them out from under the covers, they make themself presentable rather quickly.

There's visible confusion on both their faces when they reach the hospital, disembarking from the elevator and starting down the corridor towards Pyrrha's room, where Theron and Ren were waiting outside the door. After proper greetings were extended, Ren offers to explain without prompt.

"I brought the clothing you asked for," he says to Billy, "she's changing."

"Good, thank you." a curt nod. "It's good to see you again, your highness."

"Likewise, though keep the honorifics to a minimum if you don't mind." he gives the littlest smile. Then his head cocks to one side, looking the Shaman over in a curious way. "The changes...they suit you."

"Thank you." another nod, again in gratitude. "So you're willing to join us at the Warren?"

"I am, though I will meet you there. Not a fan of travel by car. Nora will be there as well."

"Good, Pyrrha needs all the support we can give her. Speaking of which," their silver eyes flit to Theron as he braces the wall beside the door, propped on his shoulder. "How is she?"

"She seems all right, then again, I don't know what I should be watching for." His brow knits gently in the middle. "She's still long in the teeth, though, if that means anything."

"It does. Otherwise? Mood?"

"She slept through the night, slept deep, so I believe she's in good spirits. That last exam might have wound her up a little, though."

"Understandable, but we can manage that. From here on out, it's about keeping her as stress-free as possible; no loud noises, don't move too quickly, no more light than necessary while indoors. If she says something is too much, listen, and..." they shift on their feet, eyes low for a moment, "she shouldn't be alone with the pups. Not for very long, anyway."

"Are you serious?" Rhea frets, her eye wide and accusatory against them.

"Please trust me." And the look they give her is desperately begging. "I don't want to do it, but I'd prefer to error on the side of caution versus the alternative.

Rhea yields, believing she understands their reasoning.

"It'll be all right, darling." Theron assures her softly. "As little as we get to see the girls, she might not even care that we want to spend so much time with them."

She's happy to be alone in the room, sitting on the bed with clothes in her hands, waiting to find the energy to put them on. Her frame sags like it weighs too much. The painkillers are already wearing off and an awful rawness is settling in her skin, nice and cozy next to the pulse in her gums around her fangs.

She can hear them. Pyrrha doesn't have to try but she hears them through the door even though she can tell they're trying to speak softly -her ears are sensitive enough now. Understanding tightens her throat, makes her eyes burn a little; they're going to treat her like she's dangerous. They're going to walk on eggshells and look at her with fear-laced pity, like she's a monster, and the thought of it makes her ribs clench against her heart.

 _You're a person, I'm not saying you're not. Just that you're only human_ sometimes, _but a lycan_ all the time _._

Pyrrha remembers, Billy's words echoing from way back when as she finally manages to get out of the hospital gown. It was something she hadn't realized she needed to hear at the time, one of those things she thought she always knew but it just didn't _click._ And it had felt more insulting then, she thinks. But now, no, now it makes more sense than she likes. Pyrrha had been convinced it was impossible to be _more_ aware of what she was, yet today is changing that much too quickly, and knowing that everyone would be watching her now, waiting for something to go wrong, that wasn't helping at all.

 _You're a person_. It's the part she tries to focus on as she pulls sweatpants up her legs. _You're a person._ Then Billy's usually chesty voice shifts in her mind. _You're the woman I love._

Hearing Jaune almost makes her cave, her waist bending with a sharp, singular sob that nearly puts her on her backside. The fever surges, the pulsing in her body quickening, thickening as she tries to force it down. Gods above, these are his clothes -Ren said he was told to bring them, that Jaune's scent on her would help- and with him in her head and his absence like razors against her _everything_... she wants to coil up and disappear. Instead she grabs the shirt and presses it to her face, not just to hide but to desperately pull his scent into herself. Maybe, just maybe that would soften everything so she could stand to exist a little longer.

It passes after a moment and leaves her feeling drained and tense. Like during her cycle when she's had to wait too long to eat or sleep. But it drives her as well, makes her push through the process of dressing with her bottom lip pressed tight between her teeth. Part of her is a little frustrated when she realize Ren hadn't brought her any shoes, but she lets it go when she remembers the half-formed claws on her toes; she couldn't wear them anyway.

When she walks out into the hall she consciously tries to make herself seem small, non-threatening, but it does nothing to stifle the looks she gets from all of them. They all have traces of fear in their eyes, wariness, and it's suffocating, so she drops her gaze to the floor.

"Let's go." She says softly, hoping the tightness in her throat isn't audible. Rhea and Theron close in around her, walk with her, and she's relieved that her father's arm across her shoulders is still tolerable.

"Did they feed you?" Billy asks once they're on the elevator and the doors slide shut.

"No."

They nod once. "I've got some snacks in the car, not much, but it'll hold you over until we get to Gypsy's."

"Where's Ren?"

"He'll be there, don't worry."

Thankfully Theron had taken the liberty of filling out all the necessary papers, so the four of them were able to walk right out unimpeded. It isn't a long walk to silver SUV; Theron and Rhea climb in the back after helping Pyrrha into the passenger seat, per Billy's request. They say it's because they keep all their travel food up front, easier for her to reach, but part of Pyrrha thinks it's something else. _They want to watch you, size you up. They need to know just how sick you are now that morphine isn't covering it up._ That would be just like them, not that she could blame them. Though it's a little comforting to find out they weren't lying about the food.

"Got some homemade jerky in there, figured you'd like that a little more." Billy reaches across, popping the glove box in front of Pyrrha, the little door flops open and a couple plastic bags fall out. "I want you to have some and then take these."

Pyrrha straightens from bending down to snatch the baggies from the floor, looking to Billy's open hand and zeroing in on the little indigo colored pills resting on their large palm. She looks at them, sees the reluctance and the expectation, and shrugs quietly. "Got anything to drink?" And she'll nod when they reach behind her seat and pluck a bottle from the pocket there. "Thanks."

"We'll see how you handle them, see if you need more after we get to the Warren. If they make you feel nauseous, don't be afraid to say so."

"What does it matter? You said I need to take it,"

"There's other stuff I can give you instead." The car shakes a little as they shift in their seat, settling before pulling their seat belt on. "I know this sucks, kid, and I hate doing it,"

"It's okay, I'm sorry I'm being so difficult."

"You have every right to be, but thanks for being aware." and their gratitude sounds genuine. "Everybody strapped in? Good."

The ride is a blur in her mind as Pyrrha consciously tries to block it out, her ears fixating on the rumble of the car in motion and not so much the journey itself. She takes a few mouthfuls of jerky, her fangs tearing through it too easily, and then takes the pills with a big swig of water. When she's finished she lets the water bottle rest between her thighs and reclines the seat as far as it will go. She looks up to see Theron leaning forward and smiling at her. She returns the gesture and closes her eyes, meaning to relax as best she can, a task made a little easier when her father starts stroking her forehead with is thumb.

 _(-)_

Preparations took longer than she expected. Emerald had felt the need to perform one last scry, just to be sure of where she was going -north vale, an opening in the trees on the the edge of a forest, near a lake, perhaps a farm. Somehow the idea of the Scribe being from such a humble place makes sense, good planning on his part, plenty of room for lycans -her heart clenches reflexively, a prick of guilt.

Gods above, she wishes it hadn't come to this.

 _But you're so close. You're almost there. Just stomach it a little longer._

She has to assure herself, convince herself it's worth it. It's the only way to see it through.

Emerald will took a few moments to peruse her collection of readied potions and powders, searching for anything small she could pocket, just in case. Who knew what was waiting for her, after all? Maybe more lycans, maybe a whole pack full. She quickly grabbed up a pouch of ashwood dust along with two smaller glass phials and tucked them away. She never feels ready, truthfully, but she it didn't much matter; there was work to be done.

Tag wasn't able to uphold the gateward, so passing out of the Midden is as simple as a sigil for Emerald. Coming through the other side has her stepping into the light of early morning, her feet touching asphalt. When the portal closes she takes a look behind her, seeing the ribbon of a highway going on and through open fields and clusters of trees. Ahead of her is much the same, except the trees grow in number until the road disappears into them. She knows she's not far from her target.

As she walks she starts planning, coming up with some sort of bullshit story that is just believable enough to get her in the door so to speak. Or maybe there was a chance she could sneak in? If the place is crawling with werewolves...she could do it. Without breaking her steady strides she finds one of the little phials in her pocket and pops the seal, pouring its meager contents on her hand. She'll rub her palms together then rub them on her arms and neck; it would cover up her scent for a short while, certainly long enough for her to get close without drawing suspicion.

It never hurts to have options.

In time she's surrounded by trees, enjoying the shade briefly before refocusing her attention on the road ahead. She can see as the once level forest floor steadily give way to small hills and trenches, then elevates into a steep climb upward. Up head Emerald spots a mailbox at the end of a gravel road. The turnoff she's been looking for. Her pace quickens considerably when the highway disappears behind her, a sense of security from being seen giving her a little more confidence. She'll slow down at the top of the long trail, zeroing in on where the trees break ahead. Her heart rate spikes, the usual jitters just before a job.

Emerald takes a deep breath, ducking behind one of the big oaks that boarder the clearing ahead. She scans the place slowly, taking in what information she can; it's a farm, alright, complete with the stink of livestock and must of tilled earth. At a glance there didn't appear to be anyone out there, at least nothing that she could sense or hear aside from the chickens clustered near one of the barns.

Now is as good a time as any.

She peels herself away from cover and starts across the great stretch of the Warren's front lawn, sticking to the grass so walking on the gravel path to the door wouldn't alert anyone or anything she couldn't see. On the way she tries to get her story straight. Stranded motorist? On the run from an abusive boyfriend? Would explain why she didn't have a scroll, though the thought of having a boyfriend almost makes her laugh. _Cinder fills that roll just fine._ She has no idea where that particular thought comes from, only that its accuracy is cutting.

The closer she comes to the front door, the more she sinks into her chosen roll. Her posture diminishes and she feigns breathless fatigue, she'll push her hand roughly through her hair just to add to the illusion. It's the best she could do without a spell. She swallows and pushes herself to knock on the door, the pressure mounting as she swears she can hear a car rumbling up the gravel road behind her.

When the front door first opens, there's relief, but it dies immediately when her brain processes who it is that she's come face to face with. Her heart drops into her stomach and everything is gone; the bullshit story, the version of herself she meant to try and sell. It doesn't matter now; she can tell by the look on the older woman's face, the widening of her stunning blue eyes, that she can see _right through her_. Even her glamour is useless, every lie exposed under the gaze of the most powerful Witch in Remnant.

Author's Note: Probably only a couple more chapters left after this, five at the most, and that's being really generous. Sorry if Cinder's story wasn't all everyone was hoping for, this fic was mostly self indulgent, so it isn't the most thoroughly put together. Still, I'm having fun, and hopefully you will too. Thanks for all the support from everyone, it's always appreciated.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Gypsy knew today was going to be an issue the moment she woke up. You see, the Witch had a number of expectations, enough to form a list as women are want to do -especially women with a large family and a house to maintain. At the top of that list was for the general area of her face to stop feeling so damn sore, but that was not to be. A heavy throb above her eyes stirs her awake and her long lapin ears fold back with a wince and a groan. It's painful enough for her to forgo attempting to brush her hair, and instead she ties it back in a silk scarf and goes about her morning without another thought.

Stepping out of her room she can hear things going on in the kitchen, part of her more than thankful that someone's up before her -someone she can ask for help until she can get herself together properly. The closer she gets to the kitchen, the stronger the aroma of coffee, and stronger the sense of hope that she'll feel more like herself soon. She'll find Jessica by the stove, the pot on one burner and her working a skillet on the other. Her eldest daughter offers a gentle greeting, Gypsy grumbling a response as she hugs her.

"Pups?" Gypsy asks as she makes her way to one of the cabinets above the adjacent sink.

"Yumi and Lola are getting them up now."

Gypsy nods as she pulls down a mug. "Thank you for helping."

"Of course, momma."

Gypsy barely has time to dress her coffee and reach the lengthy dining table before Lola and Yumi are making their way through the living room, their approach announced by baby babble. Gypsy takes a quick, hot sip and swallows it along with the visible discomfort of a punctuated squeal from Tema. She doesn't even bother to sit down, meeting her daughters when they've entered the kitchen, and negotiates Rahne from Lola's arms.

"Are they on their way here yet?" Yumi asks from over Gypsy's shoulder, hoping to gain her mother's attention.

"Yeah." Jessica answers. "Billy called almost an hour ago. Should be any minute."

"Glad they called you and not me." Gypsy chuckles. She'll swing around to give Tema some attention -have to keep it as even as possible with lycan cubs. "You hear that? Momma's on her way to see you."

Both of the little ones flail and yip in excitement.

"That's right; and your _naanee_ and babba are coming too, but don't tell them _I'm_ your favorite, okay?" and she kisses them both.

Then, even over all the noise of people and cooking in the kitchen, Lola's ears flit upward. "Someone's at the door."

"That's likely them. Come on, sweet pea," Gypsy starts on passed the dinning table, Rahne perched on her hip as she moves towards the little hall leading to the front door. "Your mom's going to be so happy to see you, but you have to be nice to her, she's not feeling so good." Somehow the baby seems to understand, green-blue eyes attentive and focused.

Without a second thought Gypsy opens the door, expecting -at the very least- to see the looming shape of Billy on her front step. But that would be another item on her mental list that wouldn't be met today.

She didn't know _who_ this woman was, and after a split second she didn't care, because she knows _what_ she is, and the fact that she has an infant in her arms is suddenly terrifying.

Emerald feels that same fear, or some breed of it. It's the kind that most others would freeze in, but not Emerald; she's the fight or flight sort, and her brain is frantically scrambling to decide which is which in the few fleeting seconds it takes for her to process the sight of Gypsy Arc and for her heart to drop into her stomach.

 _Fight and risk your life. Flight and risk Cinder's fury._

Gods above, was that really a choice?

Whatever it is, Emerald's brain reacts on its own accord, seeming to split in two opposing directions. Fight _and_ flight is the order of the day, and in a single instant, she both shrieks in fright and swings wildly with one clenched fist.

Gypsy had tried to retreat, meaning to slam the damn door shut and throw up every ward she could think of, but she hadn't expected for that _thing_ to just throw hands with barely a blink exchanged between them. Just as she attempts to duck behind the door, a set of knuckles connects with the bridge of her nose and everything goes black.

Emerald yelps again, shocked at herself -she was convinced she hadn't been close enough to actually land a blow- and scrambling to catch the baby before it can hit the floor. Rahne squeals with unexpected laughter, likely having no idea what was actually happening when Emerald gets both arms around her.

 _Oh gods oh gods oh gods_. Her breaths are heaving as she clutches the child to her chest, almost too tight, tight enough to stop the child's giggling. _I just...oh sweet gods I just hit_ _ **Gypsy Arc**_. _Wait...oh_ _ **no**_ _._ It's too much to think about now; she has what she came for, time to make a break for it.

Emerald can hear voices rising from withing the house when she spins on her heels and jumps from the steps to the gravel path. Already the baby is starting to tense in her grip and whimper as she breaks into a healthy sprint towards the trees. She has a deathgrip on the hope that if she can just disappear into the timbers again, she'll be home free.

Before she can even make it half way to the treeline, Emerald is reminded of the rumble over her shoulder, what she was certain was a car coming up the path. She was right; a large, silver SUV pulls into view, making her skid to a stop almost in unison with the vehicle. That jolt is enough to scare Rahne, the cub starting to instinctively wail with all the force her tiny body could muster. Once she can push the fear down again, Emerald cuts away in a different direction, bolting across the lawn.

Pyrrha heard it. That shattering noise that both her maternal and lycan instincts _know_ in spite of never having heard it before. Her eyes snap open and she bolts upright in her seat. In a matter of seconds, before anyone can process what the hell is happening, Pyrrha squirms out from beneath her seat belt and shoves the door open. Her nails are still long and stout enough for her to claw her way out of the SUV, let her scramble up to the roof before she leaps towards the swift moving thing she spots in the grass. She jumps with enough force to make the vehicle rock on its shocks, enough to nearly throw Billy to the ground as they try to get out.

Her strides are long and fast, her heart hammers behind her ribs, her blood pounding hotly in her veins. The heat mounts higher when she comprehends what she's seeing, when the wolf fully understands.

 _It's her. And she's after the cubs._

Pyrrha's lips flare to show fangs, her bones rattling with a heavy snarl. With a supernatural ease she begins to run on all fours, closing the gap between her and her target with a startling quickness. This isn't lost on Emerald, who chances to look over her shoulder to see red hair, green eyes, and fangs. Pyrrha skids when Emerald makes a sharp turn, fistfuls of dirt tearing out beneath the pull of her claws, but she's in hot pursuit once more in less than a second.

Emerald curses - _she's supposed to be dead!-_ having to make a herculean effort to maintain focus through the panic that threatens to swamp her. She keeps heading for the trees, countless ideas for how to get out of this in once piece crowding her mind.

Pyrrha's so close, almost within reach, just a few more strides. Her vision is tunneled, wholly focused on the back of Emerald's head. She pounces.

Emerald disappears. She had been moving fast enough to run up the trunk of the nearest tree, two long strides before she kicks off, leaving Pyrrha with nothing but a split second to stop herself from crashing headlong into it. Her lycan reflexes react and adapt, Pyrrha pulling herself up so her hands and feet cushion her momentum against the wood, letting her change direction and spring back into action just as Emerald is touching down. Pyrrha gets her on the rebound, able to snatch Emerald by the waist with claws and teeth.

Emerald is screaming through a tight jaw, somehow forcing herself to keep moving against the weight that she feels is threatening to pull her spine right out. She only makes it a few more steps, a few more gnashing bites to her side, before her knees buckle and she hits the ground. But once she feels the teeth and claws release, she's working on a response. An incantation flies fast and silent between her teeth, unleashing a brief but brilliant flash of pale light.

Pyrrha barely flinches, but it's a sufficient diversion to cause genuine confusion when she looks back to see there are now _three_ of them. Emerald split herself, and all three were up and running, mimicking the same quick limp, each holding a perfect replica of Rahne. Her mind can't process it, can't tell which is which or if either of them are real. Still, she has to chase, because that's what lycans _do._

Billy knows they can't run as fast as they used to, but they're praying to anything and everything that could hear that it's still fast enough. They know Pyrrha's going to run that woman down, no doubt about that, but they had to be there. Had to be there to keep their former charge from wildly ripping her to shreds, possibly oblivious to her own child caught in between. Though, with all their gear left behind in the car -not enough time to grab anything- they aren't at all certain how they intend to stop her. Still, they charge ahead all the same, still praying for some kind of miracle.

Halfway between their car and Pyrrha, Billy notices the dull burning in _several_ of their tattoos. But with this mess in their lap, they can't discern which ones, so it only adds to the already harried cadence of their heart.

Emerald can see both of her doubles in her peripherals, can see them break away from her to run in different directions, her ribs loosening up when the lycan follows one of them. She'll break for the treeline again, feeling much more confident, almost calm in her chance at success. She didn't need to get far, just out of sight for half a moment...

There's a blur of color between the trees ahead, a shimmer of white and green and black. Emerald feels her heels dragging the dirt again to stop herself, feeling a wave of energy push against her when the kirin comes fully into view. She can't help but hesitate, to stare at the exceptionally rare creature, but she isn't so entranced that the shaman coming up so quickly behind her can catch her off guard. She'll duck and twist away, jerking her gaze free of the dazzling kirin to press on.

The air around her is shifting again, this time with a biting edge and little pops of static. There's a fresh surge of energy, but it's much more raw, more primordial, and the ensuing shatter of light and sound is enough to knock Emerald onto her backside. Emerald can just make out a faintly human shape within the veil of mist and arcing, crackling light, a frame shrouded in bright blue that now blocks her path.

It's too much, there's no way out, time to cut and run.

Emerald shoves a hand into her pocket, palming the other glass phial she carried. With a wince she crushes it in her hand, feels the wetness against her palm, then pops her hand against her chest to splash whatever had been inside against herself. She twists to her feet, counting seconds in her head, taking stock of just how cornered she is. A kirin, a shaman, a storm elemental; there's no slipping away from this...unless.

It's desperate, and Cinder will probably kill her; Emerald bites her lip, mentally cursing, then hurls the still screaming baby straight up into the air. In the same instant, as her hands empty, the solution soaking into her skin takes affect, and she vanishes completely. But no one sees that, not really -it's like Emerald was never there- not when there's a lycan pup falling helplessly towards the ground. Billy's there, holding their breath at one last frantic push of their feet, sliding across the grass and bending their big arms just so at the elbow, breaking the child's fall. Rahne still squirms and cries, but she seems to be unharmed otherwise.

The double disappears like vapor on the wind, abruptly, and Pyrrha slides to a stop. Her head whips from side to side, bright green eyes searching for any sign of her target. Nothing, not a scent, not a sound...it's just _gone_. She eases upright, body still tight, feeling on the verge of rupture, ribs still surging with breath, but somehow the more she straightens the more she starts to feel herself coming back. Like her instincts know it's time to replace the disguise.

"Pyrrha, sweetheart,"

She jerks around, nerves charged for a split second until she comprehends her father's voice, realizes it's him. She can't speak, feels like words wouldn't fit between her fangs, so she just stares and pretends there isn't fear in Theron's eyes.

"It's over." He assures her softly, keeping his distance and his body language subdued but receptive. "It's okay, Rahne's okay."

"Rahne," she exhales, sounding like she's trying to catch a fleeting memory. Then it clicks, then she remembers what had spurred her frenzy, now she can hear the still loud fussing of her pup. " _Rahne_ ,"

Theron's heart twists painfully when he puts an arm out to catch her when Pyrrha tries to rush past him. Tucking her to him is almost no effort, but he hates doing it. "Not yet, baby. You need to wind down."

"No, babba, _please_ ,"

"Listen to me, honey." His arms tighten around her a little, the filigree in his skin shimmering briefly. Not that she's putting much force into her resistance, but for simple safety. "I know what you're feeling, but you need to take a minute. Rahne's safe now, but you have to let this pass first."

She looks at him with a face full of desperation and fangs and the onset of tears and smears of blood. Wait...blood? When did... something else clicked in that moment, flooding Pyrrha's senses with the taste and smell of copper. The color is sapped out of her face in an instant.

"Oh gods." she whimpers. " _Oh gods_." her head drops against her father's chest and she sputters on the first of a chain of choking sobs.

 _(II)_

Jaune's nerves crackle under the light touch at his shoulder, rousing him to fuller awareness without his permission. He finds himself where he last remembers being, in the mostly empty dining hall, and briefly wonders just how long it's been. Blinking his drowsy vision clear is a conscious effort, but he manages it, and makes out Tag at his feet.

"Hey, tough guy." Tag offers him a gentle, sympathetic smile. "Hanging in there?"

A huff of breath resembling a laugh. "Begrudgingly."

"Come on, let me help you back to bed."

"Might as well just leave me here." he sighs. "What difference does it make? Really?"

"Well," Tag straightens, like a meerkat in a way, looking over the table to see the doorway on the far side, to see if it's still vacant. Then the volume of her voice drops. "I have an idea, and I need your help."

"Well," another weak chuckle, "by all means, lead the way."

It's a joint, unsteady effort to get him out of the chair, primarily due to his profound lack of strength -he can barely stand up by himself, and secondarily due to Tag's lingering fatigue. But, somehow, she gets one of his long arms across her shoulders and lifts him up. They need to move quickly, she thinks, but knows she can't push him too hard. When he asks about her idea she shushes him, whispering that she'd explain once they're behind at least one more closed door.

"Where is Cinder, anyway?"

"I have no idea, and _that's_ half the problem." Tag twists her neck to look over her shoulder, thankful to find nothing. "If you need to talk, change the subject. You know, speak of the devil and all that."

"Fair enough." he grins, mostly to himself, then winces when his foot comes down harder than he meant for it to, sending a fresh charge of pain up his leg. "So, this...whatever I've got...does it usually get to someone this fast?"

"Every case is different." Frankly, Tag doesn't want to talk about this either, but between the two, it's the preferable subject. "And I've never heard of a human catching it."

"Even working with Billy for so long?"

Tag nods. "As far as I know, anyway, they were never too keen to discuss it at length. Too hard for them."

"...That bad?"

"For the most part. The quickest case was just a matter of hours, and it was messy. Billy never said for certain, but I'm pretty sure a whole pack was wiped out before they were put down. Pups included."

"Gods."

"But that wasn't the one that hit them the hardest." Tag pauses long enough to shift, centering his weight in a more comfortable way across her back. "I actually got to meet her a few times, sweet woman. Billy had a lot of hope because she was recovering, she had been symptom free for months. Then Billy gets a phone call in the middle of the night, rushing out the door in their underthings without a word to me. Then an hour later they finally call me and explain themselves...poor woman killed herself. She had called them to say goodbye."

Jaune scowls hard enough to feel it, his ribs clenching a little.

"Turns out her symptoms hadn't actually resolved, she just got used to them, I suppose. But, if that's the case, I can't imagine just how exhausted she had been at the end. Can hardly blame her."

"How did she catch it?"

"Her mate died in an accident. One of those random, tragic things that make you wonder if the gods are real or if we're all just jerking off." Tag shrugs. "So it can go a lot of different ways...though, not to sound morbid, I don't think you'll have to worry about it for too long."

"It's all right, part of me was hoping you would say that at some point."

"You're taking this uncomfortably well." she says flatly.

"I'm too tired to be upset about it." Because, at this point, all his energy seems allocated to missing his wife, and both that and the fatigue will be resolved in due time.

At last they make it to his room and Tag hauls him to the bed, bracing him long enough so he can gently sit down. She'll check the corridor one last time as Jaune collects himself, still needing to convince herself that it was empty before scurrying back to kneel in front of him again.

"So what's the plan?"

Tag takes a breath, trying to steady herself. Adrenaline is setting in right next to the anxiety. One hand dives down the front of her shirt, fishing for something as one of Jaune's brows lifts in curiosity. The other tawny brow joins the first when she produces the knife, unfurling it from the cloth and passing it to him.

"...What is,"

"I think it can kill Cinder." she cuts him off, feeling like there's so little time for them to pull this off. "That's partly where you come in."

"Me?" He chuffs. "You're kidding."

"Not at all. Do you have any idea how _low_ her opinion of humans is? She'll never see it coming."

Jaune looks at her, looks to the bone blade in his hands, and then back again. Then he shrugs. "Okay...but you said _partly_."

"Yeah." she nods once, but her gaze drops to his lap, to the knife. "I...being the Gatekeeper, I can leave this plane any time I want, but...Cinder put a sigil on me so she can keep me from using my powers without her permission. I need you to use the knife to cut the it out."

" _What_? Tag," he all but shoves the knife back into her hands. "There has to be a better way. Besides, I don't think that thing can even cut through butter."

"Trust me, if it is what I _think_ it is, it'll do that and more. _Please_ , Jaune, I've tried to escape before, and it was a _disaster_. And I don't think either of us have the kind of time to find a better way."

They just look at each other for a moment, both of them pleading with the other silently.

" _Please_ ," she begs again, throat tight. "I know I'm asking a lot, asking you to let me leave you here, but... _gods_ , it's all I've got. I _swear_ I'll bring back help as soon as I can."

She's right. He can see the truth of it in her eyes, the frail hope she's desperately holding on to. And he believes she would follow through with her promise, no doubt there. But even if he didn't...in reality, what did he have to lose? She had better chances, anyway, trying to drag him along would slow her down, and travel like that might kill him anyway. At least staying here, he'd have a shot at Cinder.

"Alright." he nods after a moment. "How do you want to do this?"

 _(III)_

Most of them are in the kitchen; Gypsy is at the dining table, ears back at the renewed pain in her face and holding a kerchief to her nose that just _would not stop_ bleeding. Theron and Rhea are with her, placating the cubs who seemed to have forgotten all about the morning's crisis. They laugh and squeal and babble at their grandparents, with Theron having the time of his life bouncing Tema on his leg.

Jessica steps around to Gypsy's side, having come from the refrigerator. "Here's some ice, momma."

Gypsy squints up at her, eyes sensitive to even the soft lights in the dinning room. She takes the cinched up dishrag stuffed with ice cubes with a groan and a nod, gently dropping it onto her face to cover her eyes.

"I'll get the others together and we'll start warding up the property." the eldest daughter continues. "Whatever she was might still be out there somewhere."

"A lamia." Gypsy explains roughly, tipping her head forward and hunching over the table. She thinks to check the kerchief one last time, relieved to find no more fresh blood on it. Maybe it finally stopped. "It's bad enough I'm still pear-shaped from yesterday, but it'd been so long since I'd seen one - _and_ having Rahne right _there_ \- I could barely think."

"No one's blaming you, madam," Theron assures her.

"Except myself." she shrugs with a little wince as she straightens.

"Not often you see their kind on this plane." Billy is walking towards the table, a mug in each hand. One has the tail of a tea bag hanging over the side, which they pass to Gypsy after gently nudging her shoulder. "You saw through her glamor?"

"Lot of good it did."

"Well, _I_ couldn't,"

"Neither could I," Rhea added.

"So it did plenty good." the Shaman adds. "Speaking of which, I think Pyrrha recognized her."

"I did as well, from Pyrrha's memory." Rhea tips her chin. "So this wasn't random chance."

"No." Billy agrees, sipping their coffee. "Safe to say she's at least working with Cinder. Shame we couldn't catch her."

"If I had known that was an option, I would have tried." Ren speaks up from across the table.

"I'm just glad you came when you did, that you came at all, your highness. And Nora as well."

"Sorry we took so long." Nora sags a little in her seat, looking genuinely guilty.

"Nora was stalking a man." Ren explains flatly. "Trying to strike him dead with a bolt of lightning."

"He tried to kick a cat!" she defends.

"Perfectly reasonable." Theron agrees aloud, then turn to Tema. "Isn't that right?"

"Bah!" the child declares.

The ensuing chuckles from everyone present alleviates some of the heaviness in the air, a good change. But it only lasts a short while, as when the laughter stops, suddenly everyone is looking at each other. The silence is begging a question that's lingering in all of their minds.

"How bad is it now, Billy?" Rhea asks gently. "Pyrrha's condition?"

Billy doesn't answer right away, though the nature of whatever they mean to say is written all over their face -brows heavy and furrowed, eyes on the cup in their hands in the seconds before they take a bigger than usual mouthful. "I...well, I had a feeling things would be different once she got out of the hospital and settled, we all expected that, right?" They chance to look at the others, see them all nodding in agreement, even those that hadn't been involved directly. "But I didn't think it would be _this_ different. She shouldn't have been able to get up and go like that, not after the dose I gave her."

"So her body burned right through it? That fast?" One of Theron's bushy scarlet brows lift. "Gods above."

"Don't get me wrong, her maternal instinct is incredible, even for a lycan, but she still shouldn't have had that degree of clarity or the energy to run someone down."

"What do we do, then?"

"...I'm still thinking." and they hate that they don't have a better answer. "Everyone's safety, Pyrrha's included, is my top priority, of course, but our options are pretty limited."

"How so, shaman?" Gypsy asks, long ears seesawing. "You're all more than welcome to stay here as long as you like."

"But what if there's another attempt on the pups? What if Cinder comes to your door next time?"

"Then I smoke the bitch."

" _Momma_ , not in front of the girls," Jessica reminds her.

"Oops." Gypsy covers her mouth with her hand long enough to cover a weak but mischievous smile. "Still, you understand my meaning."

"Of course I do." Billy nods, smirking a little as well. "But you're not fully over that counterspell, and that isn't such a good plan if we don't want Pyrrha's illness to get worse. This is the second time in a matter of days that the security and safety of her pack has been violated, it's a huge stressor for her -it's a big deal for anyone, but especially Pyrrha. _Everything_ about this situation is working against her, but all I can think to do about it...I think it'll just make things worse."

"You want to isolate her." Ren says plainly, not so much as a question but more like stating the obvious.

"Yeah." Billy grumbles. "It's what you do when things are this risky; it's the first line of defense I was trained to use, but I feel it in my bones that it isn't _right_ , not for _her_."

"Now, more than ever, Pyrrha needs people around her," Rhea has to pause mid-sentence to work Rahne's hand away from her earring before she can pull it. "But that also puts those people at risk, which will stress her just as much as being alone. Yet, by the same token, putting her in a cage isn't going to help matters much either."

"But she wouldn't be able to hurt anyone." Billy adds. "But you can see why I'm feeling cornered about it."

Everyone nods and Billy actually finds that a little comforting.

"Although," Theron gets everyone's eyes on him. "I don't think we should do anything without talking to Pyrrha first."

"Of course not." Billy shakes their head. "I didn't mean for it to sound like I was planning on it...just had to get all that off my chest, you know? I need input from everyone, Pyrrha included."

"Alright, just making sure." he sounds satisfied, that is, until Tema gets a hold of his beard and tugs, then he winces while trying to laugh through it.

Pyrrha feels like she's been brushing her teeth and gargling mouthwash for _hours_ , but _nothing_ has prevailed in removing that awful taste from her mouth and the ghost of a lukewarm oiliness around her fangs. Now she's nauseous on the flavor of coppery mint and her entire mouth throbs from being rubbed raw. She grips the rim of the stainless steel sink, head hanging, shoulders peaked as they holding the sagging weight of her body. She tries to straighten up, to stand properly, but once she's pushed her hair out of her face she immediately ducks aside and wretches over the toilet again. Nothing came up, but she wasn't exactly grateful for it. She did her best to compose herself and freshen up after that, all but dragging herself out of the bathroom.

They're all still talking, she realizes. She had been able to hear them, not as well as when they were at the hospital earlier because of the greater distance, but she didn't really need to. She has a good feeling what they're talking about. And if she hadn't, she would've when she noticed how all of them clam right up and look her way when they realize she's coming into the dining room.

"Hey kid," Billy greets first. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful." no point in lying, she laughs pitifully. "But...no need to stop the conversation on my account, I just came in to get the girls. I think it's my turn for a while."

And while her tone is somewhat humorous, everyone seemed to miss it.

"You're just as much part of the matter as any of us, Pyrrha." her mother says.

"I know...but I don't really have it in me right now. I just...I need a minute and I need my babies." Part of her is surprised that Rhea is so quick to pass Rhane to her, and another part of her is ashamed for suspecting that her mother would resist.

"I'll come with you, sweetheart." Theron is already standing up from his seat.

"Actually, babba," she hesitates, surprised at herself, "If it's okay...I'd like to sit and talk with Ren a little bit." Because everyone else is too damn close to her, too scared of her. Ren knows how to make her feel his distance, he's practical to a fault, but he's kind with his truths.

"Oh. Um, okay, if that's what you want." he looks to the younger man across the table, asking with his eyes, to which Ren just nods and stands up. Both of them start around the table to follow Pyrrha, meeting in the middle for Theron to pass off Tema.

Pyrrha takes the liberty of settling in Gypsy's recliner, taking up a long-standing invitation from her mother-in-law from forever ago. Rhane giggles at the few bounces she gets out of Pyrrha sitting down and pulling the lever to lift the leg rest. Ren waits patiently nearby, waits until she gestures for him to hand her Tema. It's comforting to see the smile on her face when both of the twins sit in the crooks of either arm, giving Pyrrha all of their attention.

He lets her have that, choosing to sit quietly on the sofa beside the recliner. He watches them, not out of worry, but in silent wonder. Babies are fascinating.

Being here, with the pups like this, is somehow more right than anything has felt to be in the last few days. This feels like normal, achingly human, and for a time Pyrrha is lost in this little bubble of ordinary. She forgets about the claws and fangs and terrible taste in her mouth, and the whole world becomes little more than the three of them and baby babble.

The twins eventually settle, laying on her chest and appearing to nap.

"When were you going to tell me you were a prince?"

Ren chuckles. "I don't tend to brag about it. Some folks tend to change their opinion terribly fast when they realize you're royalty."

Pyrrha laughs a little as well. Then "So," just above a whisper, "what are they planning on doing with me?"

"Nothing yet, just discussing options so far." he answers just as gently. "They're concerned for your illness. According to Billy it's advancing quicker than they expected."

Pyrrha hums in acknowledgment. "Understandable, I guess."

"But we wanted you to be part of the conversation before making any decisions."

"As much as I appreciate it, it isn't like I have much choice on the matter. I'm dangerous."

"But you're still you, and we all love you. You deserve some comfort in all this, too."

"But that's not something we can really afford. Security comes first...for everyone's sake."

"True." he nods once. "Although...I had an idea, if you would humor me."

"By all means."

"I could take the twins." he waits for a reaction, but all he sees is the knitting of her brow. She doesn't look at him, but the ceiling, confused curiosity in her eyes. "They could come back to Nirvana with me, stay at the palace. They'll be perfectly safe. I would ask your mother and Madam Gypsy to come as well, so they have familiar faces to watch them, that way you could stay here and be safe with your father and Billy and Nora."

Pyrrha takes a deep breath after a moment, her eyes closed but brow still heavy. "Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into it."

"I have, for a while. Since I heard Jaune was missing." he admits freely. "I know I may not show it, but you and Jaune mean a great deal to me. You've both been so kind, I'm practically family."

"You _are_ family, Ren. Really."

"So let me help, even if it's just this once."

Saying no to Ren had never been easy, Pyrrha realized in that moment. Maybe it was something inherent to kirins, or just his manner, but somehow she always wanted to agree with whatever it is he wanted. But, even if that weren't the case, he made a convincing argument. She wouldn't have to be put in a cage, the vulnerable people she loved would be out of harm's way, and if everything went wrong, there was a plan to deal with it.

"Let me think it over." She shrugs quietly. "At least let me have today."

"Of course."

Author's Note: I don't know why writing has been so hard lately, but it is what it is. Only a couple chapters left, I think, and the last of the setup for the ending climax is almost finished. Hope you're all still having fun, and please send any comments or questions my way, I love knowing what you all think. Maybe it'll help me push through the last of this.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Still crouched in front of him, Tag pivots on the balls of her feet to put her back to Jaune. He watches, anxious, as the hem of her shirt comes up.

"It's right above the small of my back," she says, "you see it?"

"Yeah." he answers unsteadily. The collection of symbols and glyphs that make up the sigil form a circle just bigger than his palm, but all of it looks haphazardly... _carved_ into Tag's skin. Some of the lines showed signs of staggering, unsteady starts and stops. If Cinder made it, chances are that was intentional, so Jaune doesn't feel a need to ask about it. "So?"

"Just...be quick, okay? And try not to break up any of the lines. It has to stay whole or Cinder's going to come running."

"She'll probably do that anyway."

"Fair enough, but this way it won't be as soon." she swallows loudly, shifting on the balls of her feet and gripping her shirt in both hands so tightly her knuckles whiten. "...I'm ready if you are." she exhales.

He looks down at the knife in his hands, his lip between his teeth and his brows knit tight enough to hurt. "I don't know if I can do this."

"You've got to." she counters quickly. "I trust you. It'll be just like shaving cold butter."

"I really hate that mental image." and yet he somehow manages to grip the handle, moving forward in spite of himself. His hands tremble even as he gently presses the calcified edge to her skin. "I don't-,"

" _Please_ , just fucking do it!"

"Okay, okay!" Jaune takes a breath and holds it. Then he bears down.

Warding takes an uncanny amount of unshakable focus, which Cinder is presently having to make a conscious effort to keep. Her mind is trying to go in several directions at once, nervous ticks from thought to thought that she's only somewhat able to work around. She hasn't botched a ward yet, but that first mistake feels but a breath away.

It really feels like time is running out. The anxiety buzzes through her, makes her hands shake a little as she draws on the inside of the front gate with her own blood. The markings hidden in her skin still burn, and it's only gotten worse over the last few hours. That damn Schnee is still alive, and is likely headed this way. If it's Willow, that could prove to be a...problem to say the least. Cinder knows she doesn't have time to prescribe against her, or any White Witch at this rate, as this ward is taking _so long_ to finish. But it's worth it, she convinces herself, more than worth it.

Because Cinder knows she can handle almost anyone who may try to stop her, anyone except Raven, and she snarls silently as her finger drags out the Huntmaster _and_ her twin's name in crimson Malphasian glyphs. With that completed, the sigil glows, waxing powerfully with a low hum as it courses throughout Tinksylvan before vanishing from sight. This gives her a little more confidence, pushes her to work a little faster. She needed this all to be ready before Emerald returned.

How long had she been gone?

Cinder lays a few traps in the courtyard, invisible seals that would prove to be a nasty surprise for anyone stupid enough to come through the front door. From there she heads back inside, barring the main entrance and putting a simple lock spell over it, and starts towards Emerald's lab. There were a few more preparations to make, such as the select few more traps she lays on her way.

In the library, down in the alcove, Cinder approaches the still crackling hearth. Without hesitation she'll kneel down in front of it, all but climbing into the roiling flames within. She pushes the logs aside, flames growling in protest as she digs through the plentiful collection of ashes and coals to the firebricks below. She feels a shift of energy beneath her hands when she touches it; the Cornerstone, hidden in a place that -realistically- only she had unhindered access to. With her nails now like proper talons she pushes them into the seams of the stone, heaving it upward with one punctuated jerk of her whole body. A heavy, grinding lurch, then another as she pulls the relic from its hiding place and props it atop one leg in order to start negotiating her way out of the hearth. She almost topples over, but manages to gracefully save herself and rise out of the hearth like a phoenix fresh from its nest. Smoke and embers flutter around her as she heads up and out of the alcove.

There's a trick stone near the bottom seam of the wall, half hidden by a bookshelf that Cinder's able to prod with the tip of her boot to trigger the hidden mechanism. There's the churn of gears, of grinding stone as the wall opens up to a yawning darkness. Once she has the needed clearance she steps into the shadow of the revealed corridor, her amber eyes flashing in the same instant that a pair of torches burst to life. A few more do the same as she advances, the passage opening up into what appears to be just another portion of the library, though the bookshelves here are concealed behind heavy iron panels and wards. There are two reading podiums in either hemisphere of the room, for convenience, and a stone altar in the center. Though it appears that everything in here is untouched and pristine, it is quiet the opposite. This room had to be regularly cleansed, physically and magically, to undo whatever was left behind by the various nefarious activities that took place here.

Cinder hauls the stone across the room to the altar, setting it on top with surprising care. She even goes so far as to dust it a little, though it does nothing to alter it's appearance of a mundane bit of masonry. But she knows better, can feel what it is, and can almost taste her freedom.

There's a healthy clip to her strides as she leaves the chamber, walking through the library to return to the hallways. It was time to fetch the Scribe. Surely Emerald would be back any minute and they could begin. She wonders if he'll still resist with his offspring's life in danger? Cinder can't help but be curious about the ins-and-outs of potentially torturing a child -she's never done it before, so...maybe Neo would have an idea. Where had she wandered off to, anyhow? It feels like it's been days since she'd seen her...

Cinder feels a sudden, sharp spark of static roll up her spine, a sensation that takes her by surprise but is not unwelcome. That should be Emerald now.

The further along she goes to find her associate, following that blossom of energy to its source, the more something unsettled grows under her skin. She's always been one to trust her gut, but she can't understand why it is raising the most gentle of alarms. Was she just being paranoid, seeing as how everything seemed to be turning to shit in the last few hours? Yes, that's likely it. Cinder lets the little confidence set in, even when she passes the dining hall and finds it empty, the Scribe not sitting where she last remembers. Maybe her Gatekeeper had a stroke of good sense and put him to bed.

But that confidence shudders when that energy she had been following leads her directly to the Scribe's room. Why would Emerald come back here? Why not her lab? Why not...was that blood she smelled? Her pace quickens until she reaches the unexpectedly open door, stepping inside with her brow knit and lips set in a half snarl. All she can see is the Scribe laying on his side in his bed, apparently asleep. She can smell it; that's blood, sure enough, but where was it coming from? It's in this room, _damn it_ , but there isn't so much as a drop anywhere. And the static of magic still hangs in the air. What the hell is going on?

Patience now perilously thin, Cinder makes three long, anxious strides to the bed and grips the human by his shoulder, jerking him onto his back, and is barely to get out the first syllable of the question perched on her tongue before the word is shredded on a vicious shriek of shock and pain.

Jaune had been faking it, clutching the bloodied blade in one hand with it tucked between his folded arms. Pointed down, he used the momentum of Cinder's demanding pull in tandem with whatever strength he had to spare into one desperate, hard stab. He felt it pierce soft flesh, felt a rush of hot air across his whole body, and winced hard to cover his ears at the resulting scream. He doesn't have a moment to feel or think anything about what he'd done, as a clawed hand tears into the front of his shirt before Cinder rips him from the bed and to the floor. Linens and his pillow come tumbling behind him, revealing the patch of intact, freshly carved, marked skin that had been tucked away beneath them.

Cinder's eyes bulge, alight with flames and rage. Her teeth are curling into tusks, her horns rising just a few inches, and smoke coils between her teeth as she puts together the pieces of this fresh mess she's discovered. The knife in her side -by the gods, only _one person_ could have made it- draws her gaze for but a few blistering seconds, long enough for her to take measure of the golden scales that are now slick with blood within her fist. Black smoke and embers billow out of her mouth as she slowly withdraws the blade, letting the pain ground her, pull her out of her furious dismay. No, this was really happening, this _man_ had _wounded_ her, and she had been betrayed.

She'll switch the knife to her other hand, freeing up the one that now glows white hot at the talons before she presses it to the wound. Sliced flesh hisses and cauterizes, sealing up with the stench of charcoal. Then she turns on the Scribe with a deep hiss, eyes narrow on him but no less fierce. She's got him by the shirt again, her talons burning away cloth and making him sweat within seconds.

"What have you done?!" she growls. " _Where is my Gatekeeper_?!" Because she recognizes that bit of skin on the floor, recognizes her own glyph work.

He can barely lift his head, and he sputters on an attempt to laugh.

She jerks him closer. _"Answer me_!"

"She's safe now." he forces out. "And you're in deep shit."

"Is that so?"

He coughs and grins. "My mother is coming for you. You can bet on that."

" _Hah_!" her toothy smile is startlingly genuine. "The Nikos family can't even _begin_ to stand against me!" A half blind Seer, a Necromancer, and a Summoner are hardly an army.

"Oh, so you went through my wallet after all? Well," he grabs her heated wrist in both hands, using the leverage to fully lift his head so he can look her in the eye. "Nikos is my married name."

That wicked smile dies like a snuffed candle.

" _Arc_ is my given name. My mother is-,"

" _ **GYPSY**_ - _ **FUCKING**_ - _ **ARC**_!" tongues of fire curl around her teeth as the Witch's name rings through the fortress, Cinder punctuating those cursed words with a fierce swing of her arm that hurls Jaune towards the door _-_ his head coming _this close_ to smacking the wall _._ Now her mind is swamped with the words of the Oracle, of Salem's warning, and an ever growing panic over the absolute absurdity of all this going so, _**so**_ _wrong_.

But there's no time for panic, no time for a fruitless fit of rage. There's no time at all.

Cinder stalks out of the room, hardly pausing long enough to snatch Jaune by the leg of his pants and drag him along behind her. And even though it hurts, the stone grinding against his nerves through his shirt, he can't help but wear quiet satisfaction on his face. Cinder was going to lose, he could feel it. All this would be over soon, and maybe he and Pyrrha could be together again when it ended.

Cinder leaves a trail of smoke in her wake as she practically stomps through the hallways, meaning to return to the ritual room in the library. She can feel the sigils in her skin buzzing, a pain she's accustomed to for all the times her rage has pitched this high, but coupled with the closing proximity of that _Schnee_ out there somewhere, it's only wearing her patience that much thinner. She'll be less than gentle with the Scribe when she returns to the altar, hauling him up and dropping him atop it next the to the stone, half of him slouching over the edge. If he slips to the floor, so be it. She'll leave him, confident that he's simply too weak from the fever to do anything but lay there.

Cinder is in the meager shadows of the corridor between the ritual chamber and the library when she feels a pop of static, a fresh charge from the markings down her back. Someone just crossed planes. She lingers in the half-dark, listening, somehow knowing someone else was in the library now.

Emerald is struggling to catch her breath even now. She shakes, her knees threatening to knock together from the leftover adrenaline and fear still pushing through her. Her glamor shudders and almost falls, allowing her fleeting, staggering seconds of seeing scales and talons on her hands. The blood still rolling down her leg is cold and starting to stick. She'd had to hide for so long, long enough for anything that might have come hunting for her to lose interest, at least until the tonic masking her scent began to wear off. She has no idea how long it had actually been.

She had stumbled through the portal into her alcove, welcomed by the heat and light in the hearth, but she doesn't stop to warm herself. Instead she stumbles to her work table, trembling hands going for cabinets and drawers. She isn't concerned about getting infected; lamia were immune to such things as lycanthropy and vampirism, but the pain is _terrible_. And she had to stop the bleeding.

Emerald jerks a drawer open, various junk shifting forward with a punctuated ruckus. She freezes and feels the distinct vacancy of blood in her face. Something was missing, and it wasn't what she had initially been looking for. Part of her wanted to scream, suddenly feeling more fear than pain.

"You're back."

Emerald jumps with a gasp, her grip on the handle of the drawer probably the only thing that kept her from falling on her ass. She pants for a few seconds, trying to gather the courage to look up and face the devil above her.

"Where's the child?" Cinder's questions comes languidly, smoothly, impossibly calm around tusks and smoke. She stands at the upper ledge above the alcove, hands folded behind her.

"It...I...everything went wrong, Cinder. I tried, b-but," how could she make a good enough excuse? What the hell was she supposed to say?! "I had no idea...what I was walking into."

"Gypsy Arc."

Emerald swallows hard and finally looks up, hating how her glowing eyes holds her attention like a steel trap. "H-how did you know?"

"The little bastard just told me. Gypsy is his _mother_." and the last word grinds out of her chest and into the air with sparks.

"A-and there was more, it was like walking into a trap. There was a Shaman, and the Nikos' Sentinel, and a _kirin_ , and that _lycan_ is _alive_ -and-," she sputters, feeling the fear trying to throttle her, " _I_ _ **had**_ _the baby in my_ _ **hands**_ -," and she cuts herself off when Cinder raises a clawed hand to shush her.

"It's all right." Cinder hisses. "Neither of us could have known."

"...You're not angry?" because she certainly _looked_ like it.

"I'm furious. But...we don't really have time for a tantrum, do we?"

"...W-what do you mean?"

"My Gatekeeper is gone...that Schnee is undoubtedly on her way here...and Gypsy Arc, well, gods only know what she's likely to do to us." and, albeit briefly, she can't help but fancy a thought as to where Glynda Goodwitch might be at this moment. "We need to work faster. You'll have to make the Scribe alter the stone."

"I don't know if I can. I...I've lost a lot of blood. The lycan."

"I see." Cinder's brimstone eyes thin. "Here, I'll help you."

Emerald can hear her instincts screaming in the back of her mind - _DON'T DO IT, IT'S A TRAP, SHE KNOWS WHAT YOU DID, DON'T LET HER ANYWHERE NEAR YOU-_ but she knows she can't do anything except try to continue selling the illusion she's improvising every second. She makes herself move, makes her still shaking hand rifle helplessly through the mismatched items in the drawer as if there was a purpose to it, all the while watching Cinder make her way down into the alcove in her peripherals.

Emerald can feel the heat as Cinder draws closer, can hear the Efreet breathing in spite of how even a quiet it is. She knows when Cinder is standing right over her shoulder.

"What are you looking for?" she asks, calm, casual.

Emerald shoves the drawer closed. "S-something for the pain."

Cinder just nods. "Then let me do something for the bleeding."

Emerald doesn't have the chance to convince her otherwise. Before she can even begin to think of something say, Cinder snatches her by the hip and spins her around, then shoves her against the table until she's perched on her heels. Then there's claws in her, pulling the edges of the jagged bites in her side before the burning heat surges through her. She tries to scream, but reflexively stops when Cinder reveals what had been behind her back this whole time. The edge of blade presses up under her chin, cutting by degrees as she shivers through the pain.

Pitch black smoke spills over them as Cinder growls. "You made a _vendetta_. _Just. For_ _ **me**_ _._ " Part of her is _so_ tempted to follow through, to etch Emerald's throat out, knowing it would regenerate due to the weapon's magic. It could only kill it's intended target, but for anyone else, it would do everything _but_. But she satisfies herself with watching her suffer so quietly, somewhat impressed. When Cinder knows the wound has closed, she'll draw back the fire, but maintain her grip.

"I. _**Trusted**_ _you_." she rumbles, just loud enough that Emerald might hear her over her panting and whimpering. " _I would have given you_ _ **everything**_!"

"You went too far." Emerald forces out, having to look down her nose into molten gold.

" _Too far_?!"

" _Children_ , Cinder! You sent me after a helpless child!" but there's more to, she realizes. The vendetta had been an insurance policy because Emerald knew Cinder could lose herself to her ambition. But now she had a real excuse, now she could feel less guilty about stabbing her in the back. Or the side, as the case may be.

"Which your kind have been devouring whole for _centuries_! What the hell makes this any different?!" she waits for answer, but receives non. "Out of your entire, gods-forsaken species, I get saddled with the one with a _conscience_!" then she sneers around her tusks. "What a fucking waste. You're _so_ lucky I still need you."

"I'm not-," she has to stop as Cinder shoves the blade tighter to her jaw, bone biting into bone.

"You _are_ , and when you're finished I'll decide what to do with you. You should consider it a blessing that killing you _quickly_ is even crossing my mind."

 _(II)_

It's quiet in the Warren. The day had passed without further incident, but everyone remained on edge to some degree; Billy and Theron had gone with Nessa and Trixie to search the property, maybe find a trace of the lamia but came back several hours later with nothing. This did little if anything to ease anyone's anxiety. There was little else to be done but to return to some semblance of normal, and for the Arc family, that meant tending to guests and family.

Gypsy cooked more than she needed to that night, but that's her M.O.; there's royalty in the house, after all. It's too obvious how everyone is consciously making an effort to pretend today is just another day, everyone skirting certain words and questions, sometimes refusing to make eye contact with each other. Stranger still is that they're all aware of it, aware of the waste it is. Still, they keep up appearances for the little comfort it brings. Most of them think it's best, think it'll help Pyrrha relax if they just act like nothing happened. If only they knew.

Pyrrha had managed to catch a short nap in the recliner, but it hadn't done much for her. She had been grateful for the mental break, but it wasn't worth it for the physical discomfort she feels when she wakes up. She feels like it's the middle of the lunar cycle, when her flesh is raw and needy for things -blood or sex- and any pressure against her skin sends her nerves alight with too much sensation. Not necessarily pain, more like overload. Doing her best not to seem too desperate, she had handed the twins off to her parents, too aware and worried how distance from them took the edge off. It gave her pause, long enough for Billy to ask her if she was all right. She lies, says she's fine, but can tell by the way they look at her that they know.

At the dinner table, Pyrrha had to consciously stop herself from eating too quickly, from eating like a savage. She feels starved, like her guts are threatening to turn inside out from being so empty, but for her own sake she had to know she could still show some sort of restraint. Because, truth be told, she simply didn't trust herself anymore. If she ripped through the food on her plate, gods only knew if she'd stop there. And something is telling her, some little instinct insists that everyone knows. She's convinced as relaxed as everyone else in the room appears, that they're actually on the edge of their seats, waiting for her to snap.

And it's in this moment that Jaune's absence was most impossible. She felt alone in a crowded room, helpless and exposed with the weight of the cosmos pushing down on her. The space where he's supposed to be feels like a yawning void, threatening to pull her in with no chance at rescue.

The feeling never truly goes away, doesn't even subside at all as day slips into night. In fact, sunset somehow makes it worse. Once darkness settles in, Pyrrha feels like every last hair on her body is bristling, and some nameless anxiety nestles in her chest, keeping her heart rate up. Once she's aware of it, she's aware of how thin her patience is -feeling like someone just _thinking_ about her the wrong way would warrant getting bit. And _that's_ how she knew for certain that it was best for the cubs to go with Ren.

It wouldn't take much to convince the others to go along with the idea; the only real debate is whether or not Pyrrha should stay here. Theron believed she would be just as safe in Nirvana, if not more so, but Pyrrha would resist him on that. "It's for the best, babba." she pressed gently. Because she feels like a disaster looking for a place to happen, and her children didn't need to be a part of that. They would wait for the twins to nod off before traveling on. Ren opens the portal to his home plane in the living room, filling the whole house with soft pink and white lights. Pyrrha will hug him, thank him quietly, and does her best not to flinch at the little kiss he presses to her cheek.

"It'll be all right." he assures her softly.

She just nods, not sure she'd be able to speak if she tried.

Rhea and Gypsy offer similar affections and encouragement, "Protect them with our lives" her mother-in-law promises in the midst of a long embrace.

When the portal closes and the wave of energy subsides, everything is heavy again. The emptiness has grown, now large enough to encompass the vacancy of her husband _and_ her children _and_ her mother, leaving her with a house full of people that suddenly felt more like prison guards than family.

 _No, no, this is better. This is safer._ Although the mantra feels about as helpful as spitting into the wind. "I...I'm going to lie down." she exhales uneasily, pushing her clawed fingers slowly across her scalp.

Pyrrha will make it to the sofa, feeling like it's where she's allowed to be, sitting down heavily. When she lifts her head, Billy is there, holding out their big hand to her. "More pills?"

"Please. It'll help you rest."

No argument, no room for it, she just takes the tablets -double the dose from earlier- and palms them after asking for something to drink them down with.

Theron fetches pillows and blankets from the hall closet, convincing Pyrrha it's not a sin for her to have a little comfort as he lays it all out on the sofa for her. He'll sit down and put the pillows beside him, patting them to coax her over. She lays down on her back, tucking the blanket beneath her feet and closing her eyes, and does her best to stomach her father petting her head until it stops feeling awful.

Pyrrha does her best to escape the situation from the comfort -or the lack thereof- of the couch. Eyes shut, brow gently furrowed and her hands folded over her stomach, she just tries to focus on existing for a while. The TV is on, the volume low but more than enough for her to hear. It's a trivia show that she knows Gypsy watches religiously, but it's a rerun so Pyrrha lets the noise blend with the hot static in her mind until it's just a dull buzz in her consciousness. A small improvement.

She doesn't notice the hours she passes just hovering in the feverish neutrality between asleep and awake. She tries not to, she tries not to think of anything at all. All that clues her in to the passage of time are commercials and snoring from her father just beside her, and Billy drifting in and out of a light snooze in Gypsy's recliner.

But the middle ground is sorely kept, as her mind just wanders on its own, as a woman's mind tends to do, particularly when it's too quiet. She thinks of her children, her life when it was normal, her husband. Her brow furrows tightly, briefly like the surging burn in her eyes. _Jaune_... When it's obvious that she can't stop herself, she remembers her conversation with Billy in the hospital, she tries to focus on the good things.

She remembers when they met, seeing him from across a crowded room after an exposition. He wasn't looking at her, but she couldn't _stop_ looking at him. She wouldn't call it love at first sight, nor sexual attraction -though he was handsome- it was just...unadulterated _want_. She had never felt it before, and couldn't properly decipher what it was she wanted exactly, but all she knew is that there was a desire for something and that _he_ was related to it somehow. The woman saw a gentle looking, easy going man, while the wolf had seen something _soft_ , something welcoming like a steady fire in the hearth in the middle of winter. However, in spite of all that, she hadn't dared to think they would ever have anything other than a passing acquaintance as colleagues.

That's why their first dance had been so easy for her, she had no expectations outside of their work together, so there weren't any serious nerves raised by it. He was a good teacher, complimented her often and didn't hesitate to correct her, he was the perfect gentlemen. By then Pyrrha just hoped they could be friends, maybe hang out some time. Still no hope -well, maybe a tiny one- that it was anything more. She almost laughs when she remembers her own shock when he asked her out.

Pyrrha had been terrified on their first date. She mentally policed anything and everything she did or said, convinced even the littlest tell would give away what she really was. But as the evening progressed she relaxed, finding him incredibly easy to talk to. She could pick almost any topic -gods know she tried just to keep the conversation going, to cover up her anxiety- and he had, at least, some cursory knowledge about all of it. She remembers her gaze constantly switching focus from his eyes to his throat and back again. She blamed it on the wolf.

Their first kiss had been so wonderful. It was a little hope that she had allowed for herself, after a number of dates that she thought were clearly more than just a friend thing to do. She just wanted to give him a little one on the cheek, just the one, a way to tell him how she felt wordlessly, but then he turned his head. She remembers hearing the little gasp that she made, the wide feeling of her eyes when they separated after a too-short instant. Then they started laughing, appearing surprised at themselves. _"Can...wanna do it again?"_ he asked, sounding so sweet and honest and vulnerable. She'd blame her eager agreement on the wolf, too, because all she can really remember about it was how good he tasted and how he had lingered in her senses for hours after that.

Telling Jaune the truth about what she was had been the most terrifying moment in her life to that point. She remembers how she hugged herself as she and Billy and Jaune sat in the living room together and talked, she remembers how calm he seemed through it all and how confusing that had been for her. That was supposed to be when he got scared and broke up with her, at least that's what she expected. Instead he sat and listened, asked questions and nodded in understanding at the answers. _"I'll need some time to adjust,"_ he said with an anxious little laugh, _"but I love her, so I'll do it."_ And she remembers the assurance in his eyes when he looked at her.

It was a look that resurfaced time and again throughout their relationship; when she said she loved him for the first time, when he asked her to move in with him and accepted when she said no the first time. When he said he had a Solstice present for her and made her close her eyes, not letting her open them again until she could see the shelter he had built just for her. _"No matter where this...we go...I just want you to know that you'll always be safe with me. Even if we don't work out...you're welcome here."_ She remembers it when they made love for the first time that same night -because then she knew, _knew_ that he was the one-, and how it made his little laughter at their awkwardness all the more endearing. It was there on their wedding day, through her miscarriages, through her pregnancy and in the hospital bed after the delivery. And it was always there whenever she felt fragile and overwhelmed. Gods above, she wishes it was here now, when she feels she can't possibly get any lower.

Now she feels too hot, nauseous, and she squirms out from under the blankets and to her feet. She hurries around the couch and the recliner and scrambles towards the bathroom for another round of dry heaving. It feels worse than earlier, her gut more sensitive somehow, and when the fit ends she just lets herself slump on to her backside in front of the toilet. She pants and coughs, her head in her hand until her body stops throbbing like an exposed nerve. She'll tip her head back, hitting the wall at a surge of tension, her jaws apart so her fangs won't touch -because _gods above_ they hurt. She'll drop her head into her hands, muffling the two punctuated sobs that rattle free.

Pyrrha eventually stands up, unsteady and shaking for a moment, her movements a conscious effort to execute, and comes to stand at the sink. She can't stand to look at herself in the mirror until she's put some cool water to her hot face, shivering at the little shock. She'll lift her head slowly, loosen the muscles in her neck to let it drop back as far as it will go, her throat stretching tight. Then she finally opens her eyes and looks at herself. But only for a moment, her bright green eyes flitting to the shadow she spies over her shoulder in the mirror.

"You okay, kid?"

Pyrrha takes a breath, eyes sinking shut and her brow tightening. "Of course not."

Billy shrugs quietly, taking a half step forward and into the light. "What can I do?"

"I...don't know. I think...maybe that's the worst of it. I don't know what to do. I'm," she stops herself, afraid of some of the thoughts in her mind, of saying them aloud and making them real. "I...don't know how much more of this I can take."

"You're gonna make it."

"Am I?" Pyrrha turns around, her eyes begging when they meet the shaman's. "Because I don't think..."

"You will." They assure her gently. "We'll find Jaune and put all this behind us, you'll see."

"But," her face tightens further, her throat tightening as the vulnerability mounts. "I feel like I'm running out of time."

And, in their own way, they feel it too. They see her fangs, her claws, how wide and vibrant her irises are, how at a certain angle they can make out eye shine, and know the wolf is edging that much closer to the surface.

"I'm so scared." she exhales, her ribs rattling in her voice.

"I know, and that's okay. That's a human thing, and that's good." Even though fear is an awful, gnawing thing, it was still preferable. "But you need your rest. And," they raise one hand and open it up, "you dropped these in the living room."

"Oh," the worry snaps away for a second as she recognizes the wolfsbane tablets in their hand. "I thought I took them, I'm sorry."

"Take them now."

She takes them, palms them like before. "Can it wait until my stomach settles?"

"Sure, sure," they nod, remembering hearing the retching that woke them out of their light sleep. Then they rub their eyes and smooth their big hand over their head. "I wish I could do more for you. I really do."

"You're doing your best." and it wasn't their fault it wasn't enough, no matter how much she might want to blame them.

"I am, I swear. I'm going to help you through this, no matter what."

She smiles sadly. "I know you will."

They accept it all the same, even if they don't believe her faith in them is genuine. "Come on, let's get you settled back in."

Pyrrha is sitting on the sofa again, Billy handing her the cup of water she asked for earlier after picking it up where she had left it on the coffee table between the couch and the recliner. She's about to pop the pills into her mouth when Billy pauses abruptly, tense enough to keep a grip on the glass of water when Pyrrha tries to take it.

"...What's wrong? Billy?"

"Feel something." one of their numerous tattoos are buzzing. "Stay with your dad," who is still asleep somehow, "I'll go check it out." because it's close and they don't like this one bit.

They had brought some of their gear in from the car, having deposited a collection of items on the dining table once everyone else had gone to bed. As they pass they snatch up the heavy leather belt that two axes rest on, quickly strapping it on and pulling one from its holster. When they reach the front door they're slow and deliberate, pressing an ear to it first to listen for anything before even thinking of touching the handle. The dull vibration in the tattoo surges, almost itching; there's something magical going on out there, but they can't discern the nature of it. Could be anything, anyone. They know the house is safe from most things, Gypsy saw to that, but anything could blow a ward with enough work.

They take a breath to steady themselves, get their mind right before slowly, quietly lifting the latch on the door. They push it just wide enough to see through the space, letting a splinter of brilliant light through. It brings in a fresh wave of energy, a small one, but enough to reveal itself as neutral. It's energy mostly used to travel by. Brow furrowed, confusion visible, all Billy can think to do is step outside to see what there is to see.

Billy knows what they're looking at, from the second their eyes adjust to the light and how it slowly spins in a familiar collection of glyphs and symbols they know exactly what it is. But it's impossible to believe. They know damn good and well that it's a planar gate in the middle of the front lawn. They know someone is accessing Remnant from the aether between realms, and the sigils tell them exactly who it is, but they just _can't_ believe it. They want to pinch themselves, that's how ridiculous they feel for trying to accept what they're seeing with their own eyes; after spending months and months trying to accept they might never see her again, it's impossible.

The symbols suddenly spin faster, blurring until illegible, the magic on the verge of resolving. Then it finally bursts apart with a _CRACK_ , the light disappearing in a split second and leaving a faint shimmer of mist that quickly fades. Billy step down the front porch steps, seemingly cautious, but then they make a steady pace across the lawn with strides that grow steadily longer and faster. With the magical light extinguished, everything is washed gray with their night vision, and they can see something -someone- moving in the grass.

The pain is incredible, the adrenaline is making her shake, and her chest heaves to keep air moving through her lungs as Tag tries to keep her balance on her hands and knees. The residual magic sparks through the patch of raw flesh on her back, but that is steadily easier to ignore as her senses come back together to help her acknowledge the feeling of soft grass beneath her palms. She made it through...by the gods, she _actually_ made it. The prodigious weight of countless things tumble from her shoulders, leaving her boneless and collapsing in the grass, her frame jolted with quiet sobs of relief and joy and finally letting some of the hurt and fear go. She covers her face in her hands and just lets the tears come.

"Best introduce yourself, whoever you are," comes a stern voice from out of the dark. "I'm armed."

"I-I'm not," Tag has to forcibly pry one her hands away from her face and raise it up, waving it like a white flag and praying it's visible. "Please," it's all she can think to say otherwise.

She can just hear running footsteps in the grass now, almost feel each closing impact through the earth beneath her. Out of some reflex she curls in on herself, unconsciously bracing for...something, going so far as the tuck her chin tightly to her chest, like her knees, and fold her arms over her head for protection. Her heart rate spikes, heat rushes into her face and she feels like fainting. Then there are hands on her, big but gentle ones. They smooth her shoulders, try and lift her up, there are sounds like words but all she can be certain of is the dull roar of blood in her ears. She actively resists when those hands circle her wrists and start pulling, whimpering "Please don't hurt me."

"No, darlin', no. Not ever." comes an unsteady, desperate reply.

Tag's eyes snap open, the reflexive fear gone though the shakes are back in full force. She's almost shivering as her night vision makes out the great gray shape of a large frame, horns, and silver eyes. She touches their face, both hands on the their cheeks, grounding herself in the reality of them before throwing herself against their chest, arms cinching around their neck so tight they're surely strangling.

"I've got you," Billy shudders, returning her tight embrace with their own, holding her against them with a hand at her head and the other across her shoulders. "I've got you, you're safe now." Sounding like they're trying to convince themselves as much as her. They stroke her hair and kiss her cheek, shouldering her sobbing as best they can though it rips at their heartstrings.

Billy reaches down and works an arm beneath her knees, hoisting her up with a curt grunt and starting back towards the house. Tag's rambling into their neck now, none of it coming out clearly, bordering on hysterical. Billy can open the door with one hand because Tag is holding on so tightly that she doesn't need the extra support.

"Theron!" They call out, hearing a telling snort from the next room. "I need you to mind the door, something might follow." Billy stops at the dining table, sitting Tag down on the edge of it. "Pyrrha, you best fetch Jessica."

"P-Pyrrha?" Tag stammers, allowing herself to pried from around Billy's neck. "W-wait, we've got to-,"

"Slow down, you need to take a minute." Now, in the better but not bright light in the dining room, Billy frets over her, over the bruises and flecks of old blood on her face. "Gods above, what happened to you?"

"There's no time!" she insists, her hands gripping Billy's forearms tight enough to hurt them both. "Cinder's-,"

"We know about Cinder."

"I'm here, big-and-tall, what - _oh_ ," Jessica stopped mid stride and mid yawn with a swift about-face to scurry back the way she had come. "I'll get Bev."

"Cinder has-," Tag tries again.

"The Cornerstone." Billy's nodding, still looking her over. "I'm calling the Huntmaster once you're taken care of. Is all this blood _yours_?" they gasp, seeing the bright red blossom on the back of her shirt, over the small of her back.

"That's. Not. _Important_." Tag growls. "She's-,"

"Tag, please, we have a good idea what's going on, now let us-," this time _they_ are the one being cut off when Tag snatches one horn, pulling until they are eye to eye and she can firmly grasp the other. No further division of attention.

" _Jaune. Is. **Dying**_!" She finally gets out, looking and feeling the meanest she ever has in her entire life. "He's got the fever and it is going to _kill him_! And if that _doesn't_ , the Cornerstone _will_! Now just _give_ me something for the pain and _let's_. _**Go**_!"

Billy just looks back at her for a moment, stuck in shock, before nodding.

Author's Note: So there's that. Everything is starting to come back together again I think. Next chapter is the beginning of the climax, and gods only know what that will entail, exactly. There's some surprises waiting in the wings and I hope you all enjoy them; at the very least I hope they're entertaining. Questions and comments are always welcome. See you next chapter.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

 _Jaune is dying._

Pyrrha heard it from the living room -how couldn't she when it came on a punctuated shout- and now she can't stop the sharp ringing of the words in her mind. Over and over, as she hovers between the dinning room and the living room, watching but half aware of everything going on around her.

The whole house is up and about now, though Beveren is the only one of the Arc family actually doing anything in particular. The others are outside, joining Theron and Nora to watch the property in case more trouble was headed their way.

Tag is still sitting on the edge of the table, quieter but hardly more calm than moments ago when she had Billy by the horns, shaking them to make them listen. Bev sits atop the table too, the top of it more than broad enough for them to sit behind Tag and look over the wound on her back. Pulling up the shirt, Bev accidentally brushes the raw flesh, Tag almost bolting off the table with a bark of pain caught up in a clenched jaw. Billy was there to catch her, to soothe her fresh wave of tears. "Can we give her anything?" they ask quietly, hugging Tag to their shoulder.

"There's orchati and rum in the fridge, but don't be too heavy handed on the rum." too much alcohol in Tag's blood would hinder the magic, more so the user. There would be plenty of time to drink once Bev finished.

"You'll be all right without me for a minute?" Billy asks.

"Don't, I can get it." Pyrrha forces herself to say, mentally pushing until her feet start moving. It's something to stave off the encroaching helplessness. She had to do something or she was going to scream. She's fully engrossed in the little task, moving about the kitchen with purpose and relishing the little distraction.

"I don't _need_ alcohol; just give me an aspirin, we can't waste any more time," Tag whimpers, trying and failing to pretend she's in anything less than agony.

"It's going to take more than aspirin, darlin'." They can't see how bad it is, but they can guess by the way Bev cringes and scowls. "At least have the orchati, for comfort's sake. It's been a minute since you've had any, hasn't it?"

"Don't baby me." Tag grumbles. "...But yes."

"Alright, brace yourself." Bev warns softly.

Tag gives an exaggerated nod, dropping her head onto Billy's shoulder to wait through it. It's not as bad as she expects; the magic connects with a spark of static against the raw tissue, but it and the ensuing heat are no worse than the present pain it's settling on top of. But then it passes and everyone in the room knows it. Tag lets go of a long, drawn out exhale, going visibly boneless in Billy's arms. There's a little sob following behind it, but this one sounds like the runoff of long awaited relief.

Pyrrha waits, claws clicking absently against the full glass in her hands, until Tag eventually sits up straight again. She sees Pyrrha, acknowledges her with a sloppy nod and reaches out with both shaking hands to take the cup. Pyrrha offers her a little, toothy smile.

Tag takes a slow mouthful, holding it in to savor for a few seconds. "Sweet gods, that's _so_ good. Thank you." she looks back and Pyrrha, studying her, then her brow knits in painfully obvious sympathy. "You got it bad, too, huh?"

Pyrrha's gaze breaks away.

"And you said Jaune caught it?" Billy asks. They know she had said as much earlier, but part of them still wasn't so sure they believed it. "A human?"

"I know, I know, but I'm sure."

"And it's killing him?" Pyrrha wrings out, her throat tighter than she thought it was.

At first Tag's mouth just hangs open, whatever response she had vanishing. She takes another mouthful of orchati, thinking it would coax it back. "I know this is nasty stuff, I've seen it, but...it's like it's _actually_ sucking the life out of him. And, as long as we're being honest, I think it's because he believes you're dead."

Pyrrha flinches, her eyes wide. "What?"

"Cinder and Emerald told him you were dead." another sip, another shrug. "I guess he just...he doesn't want to fight it."

Pyrrha feels an awful clench in her ribs. Part of her wants to panic, to cry, to do some equally soft and helpless _human_ thing, but the bigger part feels the beginnings of a fire in her gut.

"You have to come with us." Tag says. Maybe she can sense it, maybe she's just guessing at the most logical conclusion. "Pyrrha, he's not going to make it without you."

"Tag, she can't. She's sick too."

"Jaune and Pyrrha need each other, bull," she counters without missing a beat, "if we can't save him, she's good as dead too. It's our only shot to save them both."

" _We_? You're staying here."

"The _hell_ I am."

"Tag, you're exhausted." Billy argues, but not as strongly as they could.

"But I know _exactly_ where Cinder will be in that _hell hole_. I know it almost as well as she does, and if you want to do this _quickly_ , I'm coming along _and so is Pyrrha_."

The two Faunus stare each other down for a long moment, Tag refusing to blink or allow her stern glare to falter in the least. With that being said, Billy caves and nods, accepting but certainly not approving.

"You okay with that, Pyrrha?"

"I'll go." no hesitation, an edge of fangs in her voice. "What do I need to do?"

"Assuming you still haven't taken the wolfsbane, you need to eat something. Try and fill up, and once Bev's finished I'm going to contact Raven."

"You'll have to do it outside." Bev says, gentle threads of vibrant green energy threading between her fingers. "She isn't allowed in here."

Billy's ashen bows rise in surprise. "Oh. That's just as well, need to get some stuff from the car."

"Go ahead." Tag insists. "The sooner the better. I'll be fine." And though she loves to see their unwillingness to leave in their eyes, there's a lightness in their air when they leave. She's too raw to have handled much more of Billy's hovering with civility. The magic coursing through her breaks, resolving and inching out of her body to leave behind a wave of soft fatigue. She thanks Bev who just nods as she climbs down from the table -she needed to go lie down.

Now it's just Tag and Pyrrha, and the Faunus finds herself watching the lycan for a long while. Pyrrha goes fishing through cabinets and the refrigerator, seeming to grab random food items to pile on the closest counter.

"Billy's expecting you to turn."

A quick, curt, tight. "I can do it at will now."

Tag nods, mostly to herself.

"...They're worried I won't come back from it, aren't they? I'm just guessing, but,"

"It's a good guess." Tag finishes the last of her orchati and sets the glass aside, trying not to let it settle too loudly. "Not to point out the werewolf in the room, but you look rough around the edges."

"I know." the breathy chuckle is empty, sarcastic. She takes a moment to assess the spread of components in front of her -bread, sliced meat, cheese, more orchati- and then just starts picking bits up and putting them in her mouth. She eventually swallows. "But no worse than you."

"This isn't the time for pain olympics." Tag shakes her head.

True enough. "Do you think I can make it?"

"Do you?"

"I don't know. I've never changed because I wanted to. The first time...it was a reaction. I don't know how to control it yet."

"Some of Billy's old charges described it as flexing a muscle, just that muscle is your whole body. Others said they could feel it coming on if their heart beat too fast." she shakes her head. "I'm sorry it has to be like this, Pyrrha. Really. Can't help but feel like this is my fault in no small part."

"Tag,"

"If things could be different, I wouldn't ask you to go."

"You don't have to ask." Pyrrha takes another mouthful and swallows. "I have to go. I have to try."

"The Alpha must protect the pack." Tag sighs.

"My pack is in pieces." her fingers curl against the edge of the counter, claws leaving tracks. Hopefully Gypsy would forgive it.

"I think you've got what it takes to pull it back together. I really do."

"I'm no fighter."

"You don't have to be. Mother Nature has given you everything you need to come through this; let the wolf do what it needs to, and Billy and I will be there for you when the smoke clears."

"Guess that'll have to be enough." Pyrrha takes a deep breath. "Now, if you're able...I want you to tell me everything you know about Cinder." because Pyrrha means to kill her, though she hates the reality of having such a desire residing in her very marrow at the moment. Still, she means it, even if it's the last thing she'll ever do.

Pyrrha does her best to listen closely, to take it all in -"she fights fast and dirty"- even as all the other Arc children and Nora and her father come back inside. Raven had arrived and they all preferred being indoors for it. "It's not a matter of _if_ she'll exploit your weaknesses, it's a matter of _when_." Pyrrha remembers bits and pieces of her first encounter with Cinder with tangible clarity, remembers the pain of ash dust in her face and the burn of silver.

"All hunters have a Wish Bag," Tag explains, "even Billy has one, being a Shaman and everything. Just with that, a hunter has the basic tools to take out almost any target. And silver hurts lots of things, so that's standard equipment for them too."

"What about an Efreet? How do you hurt them?" Pyrrha chances.

"I always thought water and ice, but I threw a glass of water in her face once and it only seemed to piss her off." a bitter laugh that quickly dies, a second of a thousand-mile stare at the floor. "Maybe the bindings on her kind wards it off."

Pyrrha thinks for a moment, arms across her chest as she scowls a little and her father watches. "Almost sounds like," she chuffs, "sounds like the only way to really stop her is to let her undo the bindings."

"I hate how right that sounds." Tag shakes her head and smiles in spite of herself. "But we have to think of another way."

"Can't the Powers do anything about it? I mean, this is _their_ work, isn't it?" Theron asks, his worry evident in his tone.

"They can only send their agents, even at this point, which is the Hunt. Which is all well and good, but I bet Cinder's warding the place up as we speak."

"How the hell do you _ward_ against the _Hunt_?"

"She memorized Malphas' grimoire, so she can keep the Hunt out. Maybe not the _entire_ Hunt, but...how do you think it took them this long to find her?"

Pyrrha has no idea what Tag is talking about, but can tell by the look on Theron's face, the way it stretches with a sort of surprise, that it was rather important. "Can she use that kind of power against us?"

"Not in the heat of a fight, no, it's too complex. If we're fast enough, keep the pressure on, she won't be able to use any spells at all, which would be ideal."

Pyrrha looks up at Tag, holding her attention. "...And it's just going to be us? Assuming Raven can't come,"

"Being pessimistic, yeah."

"I'm going too." Theron declares.

"No, Babba, you should stay." Pyrrha denies gently, looking to him uneasily. "Momma will need you if...well, you know."

He pales a little, but says nothing. She's right, anyway; he couldn't be too far from Rhea, it's in the oaths he took as her Sentinel.

When Billy came back inside some time later, they're dressed for work with an armload of items from their car. Dressed for work being leather armor and a mail undershirt, various pouches and packs hanging on the belt beside the twin axes, and their face covered in bright red paint from the cheekbones up. They deposit what they carry on the table, more armor and equipment similar to their own.

Tag hops down from the table, eying the items they dropped. "You kept all my stuff?"

"Didn't feel right to put it away. Like having you with me when I traveled." they cut her a quick smile. "Best get it on so I can paint you up, Raven wants to head on asap. Come over here, Pyrrha, let's get you ready."

Pyrrha blinks, surprised. "W-what?"

"I can't do much for you," Billy lumbers over, a pouch in one hand while the fingers of the other delve inside it. "I can give you a little cushion against what she's likely to throw at you. No time for a proper proofing, but this'll eat a good bit of flames before it gets your hide. Shirt needs to go."

She doesn't argue, thinking it's best anyway. It'll be shredded when she turns, and it was one of Jaune's favorites. One of her favorites too. She watches and tries to hold still as Billy's thick index finger smears a collection of symbols across her chest, lining the bottom edge of her collarbones. She doesn't feel any different, any safer once they're all in place and dry, but she accepts the gesture with quiet thanks. Pyrrha pulls her hair around and over her shoulders, giving herself the seemingly superficial comfort of a little coverage.

Billy's quick to return to Tag, more paint on their fingers.

"I can do this myself." she reminds them, tightening the belt for the small shield on her forearm.

"I know, but...just let me? You shouldn't have to go back in there, and if it were up to _me_ , you _wouldn't_ -,"

"Bull,"

"I know, I know. Just let me do this for you. Let me keep you safe." Not to mention they wanted an excuse just to touch her. They needed another opportunity to feel how real she is, a sensation that's driven home hard enough to hurt when she grabs their big hand and holds it to her face. "We gotta go."

"Right. Lend me a knife?"

"I got yours in my boot, actually." they're quick to bend down and pull it out to pass to her. "Come on, Pyrrha."

"Right behind you." and she only pauses long enough to kiss her father goodbye, doing her best to ignore his longing looks.

 _(II)_

"The Reaper disappeared again."

Glynda and Blake stop, half turning to look at back at Weiss. Blake's face is neutral, maybe leaning towards curious, but Glynda is clearly concerned. The spirit had done this several times over the last few hours, since leaving Glynda's homestead, but only now did it seem to raise the Sylvan's unease.

"It's gone this time. I don't sense it nearby."

"Is...that good?" Blake asks, one felid ear cocked outward.

"I don't know, but I don't suppose it's bad. The farther from us it is,"

"Fair enough." the Faunus agrees. "How much further?"

"Not far now, just over the ridge I think." Glynda nods. "Are you ready?"

"As we'll ever be." Blake replies, looking ahead.

"I'm ready." Weiss answers.

They take the ridge as they had taken the forest all morning, quickly and quietly, reaching the crest no louder than the breeze that chased behind them. From there they can look down into the burrow below, clearly making out the right angles and masonry work of Tinksylvan's walls and ramparts. From here it almost looks abandoned for all the ivy on the outer walls, but the dull static in the air that they can sense, even from this distance, is telling.

Again their pause is brief, the three of them disappearing downward through laurel bushes and huge gray stones stand between them and the bottom of the ridge. From there the static only grows, becomes a prickling on the surface of the skin they can hardly ignore. Glynda feels it as a Fae does, feels the ancient magnitude hiding beneath the place but also the teeth of primal flames that mark the presence of an Efreet. Weiss feels that fire too, but in her own way, like a knife at her back. Blake cannot name what she feels, only knows its presence as something primordial like the threads of divinity in her blood. Still, they continue their approach.

They find their way onto a well worn path in the woods and follow it. Weiss pulls to the front, Glynda and Blake at her side; they were going to break away once they reached the fortress, disappearing as best they could while the White Witch went out into the open to meet whatever waited for them there. If it was Cinder, she'd likely be much too focused on a Schnee to worry about anything else that might come for her. It was a terrible plan, but there was so little time.

The trees and laurel bushes eventually give way to open ground, a stretch of packed earth all that lies between them and the fortress gates. Glynda and Blake are about to split, but freeze, all three of them come to a screeching halt; the air erupts with light and sound as a planar gate appears. They watch it spin and surge as four bodies emerge through the far side before it snaps out of existence.

"Oh," Glynda breathes, genuinely surprised. "At last, some good fortune."

Billy, Tag, Pyrrha, and Raven stand where the planar gate had once been, looking equally shocked to not find themselves alone here.

Glynda's expression of relief skews into confusion. "...What are you doing here, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha doesn't really know how to answer; her first inter-planar jump coupled with seeing Jaune's aunt here -with _antlers_ \- just snatches the words right out of her.

"Jaune is the Scribe." Raven answers. "Glad to see you're all right. All of you." and her crimson eyes flit to Blake and Weiss.

"Good to see any of you at all." Weiss nods. "Couldn't ask for better timing."

"Or worse, as the case may be."

"Then let's not waste any time." Billy feels the need to intercede before this conversation carries on.

"That gate, this whole place is probably warded against me, shaman." Raven says, one hand gesturing towards the robust wooden doors before them.

"Is no one else from the Hunt coming?" Blake asks, a certain dread in her tone.

"The Powers said Cinder was my responsibility."

Blake's ears flatten against her head. "I see."

"I can try to undo any seals she's put up, Huntmaster." Glynda admits, stepping forward with the intent to approach the and begin doing just that. "But it'll take time."

"That's not something we have a surplus of, Goodwitch."

"But, in the meantime, we can make a way for you. She couldn't have warded against all of us, seeing as she couldn't know who was coming." Tag adds. "I know the place well enough, I can get us through it."

"Do you know where Yang is?" Weiss blurts out, sounding like she had meant to all along yet actually did it on impulse.

"The tower." Tag nods. "I'll show you the way once we're inside." she turns to Billy, getting their attention with a light touch to their forearm. "Let's go, bull."

Billy just nods and pulls one ax from it's holster, the silver bladed one, and hurls it at the door. There's a bright blue flash centering on the weapon once it hits it's mark, anchoring itself in the wood and lighting up a myriad of symbols that had been hidden. The seals and wards aren't so much destroyed as they are unmade, neutralized and powerless, as if they had never been. But Malphasian script remains, waxing angrily in resistance while holding in place.

It sets off a chain reaction, and there's a great rumbling surging from behind the walls.

Cinder felt it; some of her traps have just been set off. Whoever means to stop her is here and surely making their way inside. Still, she doesn't move, doesn't show any hint of what she feels, she simply stands near the altar in the ritual chamber, arms crossed, and scowling as she waits for Emerald to get her Scribe in working order. Emerald has him sitting up, his hands on the Cornerstone, he _appears_ conscious, but nothing is happening yet.

Because it's so hard for Emerald to breach his mind. The pain in her side is still _livid_ , and she can feel the scalding hot coals of Cinder's eyes bearing on her and the razor sharp edge of her expectations. Like having a gun to your head; not that she would personally know that particular sensation, but she can imagine her present dilemma is akin to it. This, added to the literal fog of the Scribe's mind is making this all but impossible. Then there's a dull surge of vibration in the floor that she can feel, shaking her attention that much more.

"Ignore that." Cinder says evenly. "Do your job."

"I-I'm trying." she can't look her in the face, just stares into the shoulders of the human in front of her. "There's nothing for me to focus on...like no one's home."

"Then _make him_ give you something, tell him about the lycan."

"...You think he'd believe me?"

"Does it matter? You just need him to have a thought, a solid one."

Emerald takes a breath and nods. She's got her hands on him, one resting at the back of his head as her eyes close again. The energy in the room pitches gently, threads of magic attempting to wind between them. She's thinking as clearly as she's able, trying to reach him, and her thoughts echo through the haze of the fever in his brain. _Your wife is alive. Your children are safe. Your mother is probably on her way to kill us all._

The atmosphere in the ritual chamber shifts again as the Scribe appears to unconsciously lift his head a little. Cinder watches him closely, the fire in her soul growling in anticipation. Yes, yes, this is it. This _must_ be it! She wants to shriek in triumph when a golden light starts filling the room, coming from the stone and the Scribe. The relic's light waxes brighter and brighter, almost blinding, and Cinder can feel the threads of the cosmos thrumming to attention. At last!

"Find my name, undo these damn seals!" she commands.

Emerald hears, obeys, doing her best to guide the Scribe's consciousness through...something she simply cannot describe. She's never experienced anything like it, and it has her trapped between awestruck wonder and terror.

Then the fortress shudders with another jolt of sound and vibration, dust falling from the ceiling above them.

The doors of Tinksylvan blast open, smacking the walls and making way for the cloud of dust and smoke and debris that comes tumbling through. Five bodies sprint through the opening, keeping pace as Billy bellows for them to keep going. "The constructs will collapse if they can't see a target!"

The courtyard had been full of dormant earth constructs, and once the wards were blown and they set their first steps within the walls, they came to life and went on the offensive. It wasn't the best defense Cinder could have conjured in such a short time, but that many would be a problem for anyone. Thankfully there aren't any serious injuries yet.

Tag pulls to the front of the pack, knowing the way better than anyone present. It's a considerable effort to keep her mind on the task at hand and away from the gnawing instinct to cut and run. This is the last place in the cosmos she ever wanted to be ever again; she just keeps telling herself it's different this time. She's in control now, and she'll walk out of here when this is all over. No one would stop her.

Billy stays close to Pyrrha, knowing she needs it the most. They know she's starting to really feel it, the wolf is _just_ _there_. She took a hard swat to the chest from one of the massive constructs outside, she's bleeding from the nose, and they're impressed she hadn't turned then. But they know it's coming, and they hope it doesn't go as poorly as it could. Pyrrha does too.

Weiss and Blake are feeling the same thing as they bring up the rear of the group; anxious and eager. The sensation of Yang's presence is the strongest it has been in days, she _has_ to be here, and as the distance between them closes, each gained inch still feels like a perilous mile.

Tag leads them down a long corridor, towards the heart of the ground floor and through another pair of great wooden doors that she shoves open with her shoulder and a little help from Billy. This brings them into the banquet hall.

Pyrrha almost immediately stops, chin up and nostrils flared. "Jaune was here." She can smell him as if he was right next to her.

Tag nods. "Cinder would have had to bring him through here to reach the lab, it's right through that door. I bet you could follow the trail there."

"Any alternate routes? Passages she wouldn't have had time to booby trap?" Billy asks.

"I don't think so. Whoever built this place made sure certain spaces could only be accessed one way, and that's one of them."

"What about the tower?" Blake cuts in.

"It's that way," Tag points towards the farthest end of the room.

"Go ahead and take them, Tag, they'll need the help. I'm sure Raven and Glynda are more likely to go after Cinder, so they'll catch up to us."

"You sure, bull?"

"I am, go on." they nod. "Be safe."

Tag strides up to them quickly, worry in her eyes, then reaches up to pull them into a too brief kiss. "I love you."

"Love you, too. Get going."

She nods. "Come on, girls."

The five split up, taking differing paths.

More long hallways greet Tag, Weiss, and Blake on the other side of the door, three of them all looking almost identical as they make their way deeper into the fortress. All three of them had expected more traps like the ones in the courtyard, but these passages are suspiciously vacant. Even the solid iron door that stood between them and the spiraling staircase wasn't warded, wasn't even locked. This only gives them a few seconds pause; if Cinder hadn't bothered, they should be grateful and accept the good fortune.

Again Tag takes the lead as they ascend the stairs, taking the carved stone steps two and three at a time and expecting Weiss and Blake to keep pace. If the passage were any wider, they'd be right beside her.

Already they're almost to the top, just a dozen more steps.

Emerging from the stairwell Tag curses, seeing something lunging towards her and reacting instinctively by tucking and rolling forward into the passage at the top. Something soared over her head, she knows it, but she didn't get a good look at it. Whatever it was crashed into someone behind her.

"Blake!" Weiss gasps.

"I'll go," Tag scrambles upright again. "Follow this corridor to the end, there's only one door." She doesn't wait for an answer and disappears around the bend in the stairwell.

For a brief moment, Weiss is too stunned to move, wholly unsure what the hell just happened. But then she blinks, her thoughts snapping back together, and she turns to jump out of the stairwell and make her way down the semi-circular passage at the apex.

Myrtenaster is tight in her hand, ready on the chance that her suspicion is correct and there's something _else_ up here that likely wants to kill her. It's the feeling of the place, the residue of magic in the air, old and stagnant. Magic has died here, and she senses it like a slimy, frigid hand on her soul. It's in direct contrast with the pulsing heat of Yang's presence coming from the golden scales on her ears.

One single iron door. That's all that bars her path now. She approaches without delay, doesn't even think twice before trying the heavy bar of iron that controls the mechanism. But she's certainly regretting that awful haste of hers when the iron turns white hot in her hand and burns her with a hiss of metal to flesh. Thank goodness her mother wasn't around to hear the oaths that came spilling out of her.

However, by the same token, that reaction had set off another, but this one is decidedly more helpful. The touch of a Witch revealed the seals keeping the door tightly shut, a collection of concentric circles of symbols that wind in on one another. Still clutching her scalded hand, Weiss thins her eyes bitterly on the sigils.

Oh no, gods be damned if she would let _this_ stop her.

Weiss approaches again, ready and mindful, her fingertips aglow with immaculate light as she starts dismantling the seals one by one, the circles and knots spinning like the dial on a safe.

Step after merciless step smacks the back of Blake's head as she tumbles end over end downward. She can't see, dizziness is threatening to swamp her, and all she can hear is the commotion of her own falling body and what sounds like gnashing teeth. Something has a hold of her, clawed hands anchored tightly in her clothes and preventing her from stopping herself. But she does stop, jerked to a halt, abruptly enough to tear whatever had its talons in her free so she can finally flop to a standstill. The world is spinning, her head is throbbing, she just needs...a few seconds.

Tag is just around the bend above Blake, her arms and hands tight with strain as she pulls against the length of her bullwhip, steadily reeling in whatever she had managed to wrap the end around. She had done it without thinking, hoping to lasso a limb and at least stop them from crashing to the bottom of the stairwell. Even if Tag _had_ thought about it, none of those notions would have involved the writhing mass of flesh that turned on her once her gaze settled on wild and bulging bi-colored eyes.

 _Oh my god_.

Fangs in a jaw that seems to never keep its shape, its whole form functionally boneless, gnashes and expands and contracts, horrifically unnatural. Piebaled fur of pinks and browns grows in patches, uneven in shape and consistency like the skin that looks to be shifting madly from tone to tone. There are limbs in disproportionate shape and number, there and gone again in some cases as it is in constant flux. Hands shudder and twist into paws and then back again with sickening cracks.

It has always been a generally accepted fact that Changelings were immune to a great many things, because their blood just doesn't hold onto anything since it can be anything it wants. But, surely as she breathes, Tag is positive that this Changeling has contracted Lycanthropy.

Tag immediately drops the whip and starts back up the stairs, certain that horrible creature is going to follow -which it certainly does. Before coming to the top she slips her knife from its sheath, the silver edge catching torchlight as she tucks the blade to rest along her forearm. Now there is room, there is even ground, now she has a chance.

"Stay close but stay behind me." Billy cautions as they leave the banquet hall and step into the shadows of the corridor. They can feel that the air is clotted with magic, there's bound to be traps everywhere, so their previous sprint eases to less than a jog. "You got a trail, kid?"

"I still smell him." Pyrrha replies quickly. She doesn't really need to hunt for it now, her senses sharp. "We're going the right way."

"You just stay focused on that, okay? Don't worry about me; I want you to get to your husband and get him the hell out of here."

"You trust me to do that? Even if I turn?"

"I do. Hold up." They put out one arm, effectively stopping her. The other hand is in the pouch on their belt, their Wish Bag. Of all the things they could have pulled out, it looks like it's just a common rock about the size of a golf ball.

Pyrrha watches them toss it down the hallway, listens to it bounce and echo off the stone floor, nothing out of the ordinary stirred up by its disturbance. "...Was that..."

"Just checking. Still, don't touch anything." Because all that did was show them there weren't any traps hidden in the floor. None that were triggered by stepping on them, that is. "Come on."

Billy follows the vibrations in their tattoos -all of them are going off in one way or another- towards the ever nearing source of magic that's now pulsing like a heart beat. The two of them pass by several doors, none of which they bother to check because Billy simply doesn't trust them. They're confident they'll know which one they need. They'll find it about two-thirds of the way down.

Billy cautiously taps the door with the silver ax, just to see what it does, and nothing happens. Their exhale of relief is audible, but short as they grab the door handle and lift it. Still nothing as the latch gives way and they push their way inside. Once they step out of the shadows of the short passage beyond the door, into the library, the buzzing in Billy's tattoos becomes almost painful. They're nervous now, mainly because there's no way to know if there were any traps in here, the air is too heavy with magic to tell any of it apart. They gesture for Pyrrha to follow, both of them quickly moving between bookshelves and around the rim of the alcove to reach the passage leading to the ritual chamber.

"I'll try to keep her busy. Stay out of sight, and if you see a chance to get to Jaune, take it. Don't hesitate."

Pyrrha just nods and follows, disappearing into the dark corridor with them, eyes fixed on the light at the end. She crouches low, stopping when Billy directs her to, and she waits. From here she can see everything. Just seeing Cinder again is enough to make her fangs throb and the small hairs on her body bristle sharply, and what little attention she can spare from her focuses on Jaune -or what she can see of him beyond Cinder's figure in the middle of the room. A growl perches in her chest, but she stops it.

Billy slips the other ax from its holster, this one made of solid stone, and wastes not a second in stepping into the light and letting it fly across the room in a direct path to land between Cinder's shoulder blades. At least, that's where they meant for it go. Like an over-the-top action movie, Cinder spins around at the last possible moment to stop the weapon in mid air, catching it as smoothly as one breathes.

"Good to see you, bull. Been a while." She's smiling, but not with any sort of amusement or joy. It's a smile in spite of what she's feeling, something to hide the fury. One dark brow rises sharply, her facade falling away as Billy comes charging across the room towards her. "No time for talk? Just as well."

Pyrrha watches, perched on the balls of her feet, ready and waiting as Cinder and Billy crash together in the middle of the room, sparks erupting on impact. Her gaze flits almost rhythmically from them to Jaune, back and forth, though lingering more on her mate as she notices the golden glow surrounding him and the large hunk of stone his hands are resting on. Anxiety is making her ribs clutch tight, her skin buzzing with...something else. Part of her wants to bolt, to hell with everything and make a mad dash for Jaune, but her better sense is telling her to wait. Just wait a moment longer. Wait... _wait_...

Billy gets their other ax out of Cinder's hands, pries it loose under the threat of snapping her forearm clean in half. But she's far from unarmed. There's the flash and growl of fire in her hands, fingers morphing to molten talons that swipe hard and fast. The red paint on the Shaman's face takes the heat, but it won't save their flesh from hooking claws. They bounce back as fast as they can, blood spilling down their face and stinging one swelling eye as they put all their weight behind one solid kick. Cinder takes their heavy boot to the chest and smacks into the nearest wall, her head bouncing off stone.

Pyrrha springs out of hiding, legs pumping for all they're worth. The feet between her and Jaune close quickly, in a blur, she's almost there, just a few more strides.

The trap is triggered by the pressure of her presence much too close to the altar. Burning orange sigils spring to life across the floor, forming a ring around the stone table. It's like the floor splits open, ruptures to release jets of white hot flames that spew upward and lap at the ceiling. Pyrrha can't stop fast enough to keep from being swallowed whole. She can't scream, can't _breathe_ , there's nothing but impossible heat and light. The little ward Billy had painted on her chest dissolves, doing what it could which is hardly enough. She tries, gods above Pyrrha tries to push through it somehow, but simply can't. Scalded and scorched she twists away, choking on the stench of smoke, her body livid with stinging pain.

"Stupid _fucking_ animals, _all of you_!" Cinder shrieks, punctuating the effort of throwing Billy across the room.

They bounce once, but land in a crouch, still ready. They take a quick look over their bruised shoulder, sees that Pyrrha is still moving, still alive. They had to be sure. They look back at Cinder, watch her stalk across the floor, hands aflame and all tusks and horns. " _Fuck_." They look back at Pyrrha again, jaw clenching against what they feel is the only choice they have. "I can't do this myself, Pyrrha."

"B-but," she stammers around a mouth full of fangs and a tongue heavy with pain.

"Yes, go ahead and turn, you filthy mongrel!" Cinder snarls, tongues of flame lapping around her lips. "You'll make a nice throw rug for my bedroom, and the bull's head can go on my mantle!"

"I trust you, Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha's mind is a haze of hurt and white noise and arguing. _Oh god it burns, people are going to die if I don't turn, people might die if I_ _ **do**_ _, will they be able to stop me, can I stop Cinder, Jaune might die -_ _ **oh god oh god oh god**_...

 _Gods forgive me_

Tag told her it was like flexing a muscle, but for Pyrrha it's more than that. It's like ripping through a shroud. Tearing away the human disguise and emerging as the vicious truth. It's too easy, almost painless, too smooth and fast to hurt. Too natural. And when the feverish haze of the change passes, there's a staggering clarity; she knows where she is, why she's here, and knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that Cinder is her one and only target.

Emerald focuses through the tumult of roaring flames still surging around them, a surprisingly easy thing to do when she's so fixed on the alien sensation of touching the threads of creation through her link with the Scribe. Her mind's eye is assaulted with a sea of golden script, the countless irrefutable laws of the universe drifting in the aether. How in the hell was she supposed to single out Cinder's name in this mess? And do it quickly?

 _Please help me out, the sooner we get this done, the sooner all this madness ends._

The response is dismal, small, but still something she comprehends as resistance.

Okay, that angle isn't going to work...but what if...

 _I think I know a way we can stop Cinder, but_ _ **you**_ _have to do it. Please, just this once, I need you to trust me._ Because, at this point, Emerald knows she's damned either way. Might as well take Cinder with her. _**Please**_ _._

 _Murdered my wife_. Comes a thought, barely there but still tangible.

 _She's alive! She's here, and Cinder is going to kill her for sure this time if she isn't stopped._ _ **You**_ _can stop her!_

 _...How?_

 _First you need to find her name._

Her mind's eye is beset by a blur of gold and white and her brain feels like it's being jerked at breakneck speed through the aether. The stop is jarring, and once her mind is together again, surely enough it's greeted with the molten splendor of Cinder's name, a manifestation of her existence and all of the laws that bind it. Emerald studies it for a moment, finding a particular line of script she hadn't expected.

 _...I don't think she knows about this. We can use it._

 _What do I need to do?_

 _You can take it apart, but_ _ **carefully**_. _I'll talk you through it._

Weiss can hear the struggle going on down the corridor behind her, hear the screaming and wailing of something that can't possibly pass as human, and it's taking every ounce of discipline she has to stay focused on her work. Several of the rings in the sigil have come undone, but she feels it's not enough; she's this close to throwing a disjunction at it and just hoping for the best. The only reason why she hasn't yet is because she isn't so desperate as to risk this _literally_ blowing up in her face.

" _Go for the throat_!" she hears from down the hall.

 _Focus, focus, focus, they can take care of themselves._ _Focus...one more down. You can do this. You're a_ _ **Schnee**_ _...another one. One more._ With a strange, stray tick, her hand swipes at the ring, letting it spin madly like a roulette wheel without meaning to. By an even stranger stroke of luck, it slows to a stop, several of the symbols glowing, and then the entirety of the seal collapses and disappears. It takes a split second for her to realize what just happened, to accept that it happened at all, but she's quick to use Myrtenaster to blow the door open once she has.

A hard sob wrenches out of her when she sees Yang lying there, motionless atop a wooden platform that's covered in brown splotches of old blood. She hurries over, eyes fixed on Yang's chest to make certain she's at least still breathing, but confirming that isn't enough to stop Weiss' gut from dropping at the sight of her. No bruises or wounds to be seen, but she can feel her eyes burning with tears at the glint of golden scales through coin-sized markings on her sides, and the broad, gilded patch on the end of what remained of Yang's right arm. Then she comprehends the collar, her heart threatening to split in half when she understands what it is, what it's made of.

Weiss carefully lifts Yang's head with one hand, finding the intricate closure of the collar beneath her, pulling the two iron spokes out of it with no mind to the burning in her still tender hands. When the clasp comes apart she all but rips the cruel manacle off, tossing it over her shoulder with no further regard to it.

"Yang?" she tries softly, unsteadily as she's still trying not to devolve into crying. "Yang? Wake up, it's me. Please? Everything's okay, we're here," no response. "Yang? _Yang_."

She puts her ear to Yang's chest, hears the steady thrum of her heart in a neutral rhythm, and all it does is worry her further. Weiss touches her face, certain there would be a reaction of some kind, but nothing. Not even the stray twitch of a brow.

By all accounts, to Weiss, Yang simply appeared to be sleeping. But why wouldn't she... She can't help but try the one thing that comes to her mind, the only thing that has ever gotten Yang to wake up, around her at least. Hoping against hope, too harried to think of anything better, Weiss bends down and kisses her, breaking the curse that had been too small for the White Witch to sense.

The lycanthropic Changeling wriggles out of Blake's grip like an eel, slick with blood and slaver, and scrambles across the floor towards Tag who is still trying to stand up. A nasty blow to the head has her vision swimming, her base unsteady, and she doesn't so much dodge the oncoming swipe of claws as she stumbles out of reach. Nothing was working, everything she and Blake tried to hurt this thing didn't seem to phase it, it just kept coming. But as it turned on her, ready to pounce again, Tag still brandished her knife, gripping it as tightly as she held on to her own hope of making it out of this.

Before it can spring into action, the corridor is flooded with a blinding flash of light that erupts from the far end. Everything stops, all eyes closed, nothing moves until the air in the passages pitches into a gale. Then the passage is awash in shimmering gold as a Dragon comes spiraling into view, its serpentine body corkscrewing mere inches above the floor. It soars through the hallway to collide with the Changeling, coiling around it with a lethal quickness, it's jaws snapping to put a sudden, gut wrenching halt to a yelp of terror. The air settles to stillness again, taking nothing away from the three punctuated crunches of teeth into bones and flesh.

"Come on, we have to hurry and help the others!" Weiss comes sprinting down the passage, only pausing to help Blake stand up. "You all right?"

"I'll be fine, just a few bumps." Although she feels like throwing up. "Let's go."

Just as Weiss and Blake get Tag up and steady, the Dragon coils around the three of them, gathering them up in the hook of her remaining arm and holding them tight to her body as she takes off again in a gilded blur down the staircase.

It's happening at last. Cinder can feel the seals in her skin coming alive with light, stimulated into visibility by nothing other than the Scribe's touch. She feels her own power surging, the fire of her soul growing and growing like air filling a bellows. She has the lycan by the jaws, fangs inches from her face, the inches steadily growing as she finds the strength to push back even a beast of this size. The bindings are finally coming undone, and as each sigil wanes into nothingness, her true power sparks into being. It finally feels real when her horns sprout through the veil of human skin she has worn since she flickered into existence, black as charcoal and glowing red hot in the seams.

Pyrrha still pushes forward, claws anchored in Cinder's ribs as she tries to close her teeth around any part of her that she can reach. She ignores the burning in her hide around her snout where Cinder holds her, ignores the growing ferociousness of the rogue Hunter's appearance, and focuses solely on ripping her apart.

Billy can feel the energy in the room shifting, feels their gut drop because they know what's coming. With Cinder going tooth-and-nail with Pyrrha, they had been trying to drop the wall of fire around the altar, so far with no success. But that would have to wait. Cinder's about to go off in a very literal way. Instead they shove their hand in their Wish bag, pulling back a handful of white paint and smearing it over their arms in a sloppy fashion. It would have to do.

"Pyrrha, get out of there!" they scream, praying she'll understand. When they seem to go ignored, Billy smudges what little paint is left on their palms onto the blade of the stone ax and throws for everything they have. It connects with the floor at Cinder and Pyrrha's feet, the impact triggering a flash-bang that sends a cloud of cold magic in an upward burst. It has the desired affect and separates them, and not a moment too soon. They're up and running, five full length strides enough to put the Shaman between Pyrrha and Cinder, just as the Efreet detonates.

The entire chamber is awash in an inferno, enough fire to go belching out through the passage into the lab and swallow several shelves full of books in an instant. The stones in the walls are scorched pitch black and left smoking when it recedes, pulling back to their point of origin and collapsing into ribbons of light that circle Cinder. Even the fire surrounding the altar has disappeared, heeding her call. Now she emerges in all her infernal glory; skin the color of blood and glowing, molten veins winding across her body, opening into her talons and giving them light. Her eyes are solid gold and glowing with deceptive gentility. Her horns smolder and smoke, a shadowy halo about her head of fiery hair. Her tusks and tongue are bright with heat, like iron in the forge of her mouth.

Free at last.

Somehow, by some stroke of luck, the hastily applied paint had been enough to save them both, but it's been completely used up, leaving bright red welts on Billy's skin from what little it couldn't stop. Pyrrha's fur smokes lightly, singed at worst, but she is otherwise unharmed.

"Good." Cinder says, her voice rumbling like a furnace. "Now I can kill you myself. And you will be the first of _many_."

"You're not leaving this room," Billy grunts, getting to their feet, both axes at the ready, "if it's the last thing I do."

"Rest assured, it will be, you old steer."

Then, before either of them can make another move, Pyrrha darts from behind Billy and lunges for Cinder.

The beginning of the end.

Cinder retaliates in kind, tooth and claw meeting each other again as the two collide into one another. No amount of flame stops Pyrrha; she's in it for keeps now, her determination evident in bulging, gleaming green eyes and the tenacity of her teeth.

Seeing no way to help without interfering, Billy turns their attention away, to the altar. The glowing has dissipated, Jaune collapsed atop the Cornerstone, and Emerald looking to be trying to climb down from the stone table unseen. Billy's not about the let her slip away, and makes a beeline to stop her.

Emerald cowers. "Please don't kill me!"

"I won't if you undo this mess."

"I can't, any more and he'll die. I've done everything I can."

"You've unleashed hell is what you've done!"

"I've also made her vulnerable!"

They don't understand, to be truthful, and there would be no time for explanation.

Soot and ashes kick up on a wind from nowhere, a gale from the lab side of the passage that blasts into the ritual chamber. The golden Dragon comes roaring out of the misty air, eyes waxing red and fixed on Cinder. Pyrrha is able to pull away before the two collide, the Efreet caught but not crushed in the Dragon's jaws before being slammed into the wall, crushing inward one of the iron panels covering the books. Savage bursts of flame belch from where the two meet, the best an Efreet can do with busy hands, though it does little more than make the Dragon's scales glow with heat. Pyrrha follows them as they drag each other around the room, looking for an opening.

The three that arrived with the Dragon hurry to the altar. Tag hugs Billy about the waist just long enough to assure herself they're real. "The Huntmaster is on her way, we spotted her and Glynda in the banquet hall when we passed through."

"Good." A curt nod. "Then we need to get out of here, let Raven do her job. If one of you can heft Mr. Nikos, I can carry the stone."

"What about her?" Blake motions with the end of her blade towards Emerald, ears back and wary.

"She's coming too. She's got a _lot_ to answer for."

"Yes she does." Tag adds bitterly, part of her reveling in the fear on Emerald's face.

"I'll stay and help Yang." Weiss says, taking off to join the fray before anyone could pose anything resembling and argument.

Tag manages Jaune across her shoulders, surprised at his weight. Blake summons a shadow double, and the two of them hoist Emerald up and hold her securely by the arms. Billy needs both hands to carry the stone, and the lot of them do their best to leave quickly. Billy will linger just shy of the passage.

"Let's go, Pyrrha, the Hunt can handle this!" But they don't expect her to listen, not when she's gums deep in Cinder's ankle, dragging the irate Efreet across the floor while she tries fending off the Dragon. They hate to do it, but they go on, mentally promising to come back.

Raven and Glynda pass them in the lab, not a word to exchanged between them as both parties are much too focused on their respective tasks. The Huntmaster's hand is ready at her sword, reflexively drawing it the second they come out into the light of the ritual chamber. Blood red irises meet molten gold, and Cinder screams in fury while unleashing a hemisphere of roiling flame. The lycan and the Witch jump away, just out of reach, but the Dragon keeps pressing. Cinder can see Raven coming for her. Once she has the space to breathe, she reacts, but doesn't target Raven.

Malphasian erupts from between her fangs as easily as a thought, one free hand hooking and all but closing as the words echo, her flaring eyes focused on the Dragon. The reaction is immediate, violent and jerking, the Dragon clawing at its own chest as it collapses on the floor and heaves in an attempt to breathe.

"One more step and I'll kill her!" Cinder growls at Raven, genuinely surprised when the Huntmaster freezes just like everyone else in the room does. "Call. Them. _Off,_ Raven."

"I can't do that." she replies, tight jawed.

Cinder cuts a nasty, panting grin. "But you certainly _can_ sacrifice family for the sake of duty. Just like Summer. And I'm going to enjoy killing your flesh and blood just as much."

"You've lost, Cinder. The Scribe and the Stone are gone."

"You think I don't have the power to take all of that back? Once I'm finished with you, and the Hunt, and the _goddamn_ _ **Schnees**_ , and anyone else who stands in my way, I'll-"

She'll never finish that speech, never mind how many centuries she spent rehearsing it in her head.

With the seals separating her from her powers unmade, so too were all the protections they offered. Namely a safeguard from the ultimate consequence for her actions, her numerous treasons against the Cosmos, and from those supernatural beings meant to carry it out at the behest of the Powers that Be.

A streak of silver cuts out of the darkness of the passage, disturbing neither air nor dust though its movements create the sound of a howling wind. It passes right through Cinder, it's true shape apparent when it stops behind her. It's the Reaper, or what Cinder had only been able to discern as a common Wraith due to the wards in her skin. The Reaper hadn't been able to see her truthfully either, for the same reason. But now she can see it, and is horrified by the glint of its scythe and the familiarity of the spirit's face. A Sylvan Fae with silver eyes.

And now, in the seconds before oblivion takes her, Cinder can't help but remember Salem and the Oracle. They were both right. Gods be damned, they were both right about everything.

The flames of the Efreet's soul snuff out, sputtering weakly before going dark. Even the gold of Cinder's eyes dims and eventually goes pitch black, like her tusks and horns and the molten veins, and then there's just coils of black smoke. She collapses to the floor, her chest heaving with one last, shuddering exhale.

Raven's body loosens, lets her stand up straight now that the danger has clearly passed. The others start to move as well, Weiss immediately going to Yang as the Dragon sputters and groans. Glynda crosses the floor to stand by Raven, looking equally as disbelieving as the Huntmaster. Both take in the last, lingering moments of the Reaper's presence before it inevitably disappears. It's work was done.

They look to each other, silently confirming what they had seen and that they had both witnessed it.

Pyrrha feels what the others do, in her own way, and feels safe enough to leave the ritual chamber. Her pace steadily quickens, her adrenaline drunk mind slow to process the idea of the threat being gone. Now all she can think about clearly is her mate, how he isn't here with her, how she isn't sure if he's safe. She tracks his scent through the fortress, sifting through the stench of smoke and ash and lingering magic, and the trail takes her back the way she had come. She finds the others in the banquet hall.

She wholly ignores them, even Billy when they try to talk to her, try to talk her down in a way she knows. On all fours she just pushes passed, totally fixed on her mate as he slouches in one of the chairs beside the table. Very human worry creases her muzzle and brow as she stops at his feet. Perched on her hind legs she leans closer to him, sniffing at him, nudging him with her snout and licking his face with little whimpers. She's begging for a response, anything to tell her he's okay. She pulls him against her, her paws huge against his back, and feels an incredible relief when physical contact with him isn't painful. It's actually soothing.

Tag gives Billy a worried look. They're both thinking the same thing; is she safe enough to do that? Now? Billy reassures her with a nod. They said they trusted her and meant it.

Pyrrha feels him move. It's a little thing that turns into a big thing, big to her. One of his hands had been hanging limply at her side, held there by her great embrace, but then the fingers close, anchoring in her fur, and she feels his chest expand and contract with an almost sleepy sigh. All she can think to do in response is hold him closer.

Author's Note: It feels like trash, but here it is. I just had to get it out, be damned with how, because I'm on the verge of not having fun anymore. So I've got one last chapter after this, should cover up most things. If you have any questions, feel free to throw them my way, I just can't promise I'll have all the answers. Thanks to everyone for sticking around and giving this a chance, hope to see you all at the finish line.


	18. Epilogue

**Chapter Seventeen**

 **Epilogue**

Pyrrha pulls her now human looking hands down her face, fighting the fatigue as best she can. Her mind is hazy, struggling to process what's going on around her. She keeps forgetting where she is and what she's doing, though she hasn't moved from the chair she sits in or done anything other than sit for the last hour. Someone's touching her, that much she is certain of, but for the first time in days it doesn't make her want to snap her teeth. That, and whatever those hands are doing, they're lessening the lingering burn of the scorch marks across her body.

"Hey, kid, how are you holding up?"

Pyrrha blinks and tips her head up, forcing herself a little more awake. "Hey, Billy. I'm...I think I'm okay."

They lean in a little closer as they crouch in front of her. "Looking a little dull in the eyes, but they're _your_ eyes. That's good."

"Speaking of eyes, what about you?"

"Pfft," they wave a dismissive hand. They've got bandages on their face, one eye covered. Thankfully the wound wasn't serious enough to blind them. "This is nothing. Give it a week and I'll be fine."

Pyrrha nods slowly. "I'm not...I don't feel very...present at the moment."

"That's probably for the better. You took a hell of a beating, all things considered, you're body's just telling you it's time for some rest. Which should be high on your list of priorities for the time being."

"I can't wait to get home." she grumbles.

"I think the prince is making arrangements for all of you to bunk here tonight." They watch as Pyrrha cocks her head and squints at them, puzzled. "We're in Nirvana, remember? Ren's palace?"

"Oh, oh, right, I'm sorry."

"Scatter-brains is nothing to apologize for." they smile, hoping it's reassuring. "I think we've all got a little case of it right now."

She nods again, more quickly this time as she pushes her fingers over her scalp. "Where's Jaune?"

"The healers have him right now."

"Shouldn't I be with him?"

"Soon, real soon, they just need to sort through whatever contact with the stone might have done. In the meantime, you need to eat, possibly bathe," they don't have the heart to tell her she smells like a dirty dog to her face. "And take one of these." They have their hand in their Wish Bag again, and pull out another of those damn wolfsbane tablets. "It'll be the last time, I promise."

Worry creases her brow. "But...I'm going to get better now, right?"

"You will, but this is more for Jaune's sake than yours."

"What do you mean? You think I'll hurt him?"

"Well, let me put it this way." They clear their throat and pause a moment more to weigh the choice of words. "Once you two have a minute to yourselves, your instincts are going to want to start reestablishing the physical bond between you as soon as possible. He might not be able to handle that kind of...handling for a while."

At first she just looks at them, confused. "What do you...oh... _oh_! Oh, goodness, yes, I," she laughs in spite of herself, feels her face reddening a little. "You've got a point." Great, now that's all she can think about. She takes the pill and pops it in her mouth, cringing through a dry swallow.

"That's perfectly normal, it's nothing to be scared about, it's your body trying to get what it needs to recover from the fever. But _both of you_ need to take time to rest first. Got it?"

"Yes, I get it." she still can't look them in the eye. Now she's the one clearing her throat. "How is everyone else doing?"

"I'm sure they'd be great if Raven would stop trying to interrogate them." Billy side eyes over their shoulder, just in case the Huntmaster was closer than they thought. Raven was somehow more anxious now than in Tinksylvan, but they think they understand why. Yang was conscious and actively receiving care -which demanded several priests from the largest temple in Mistral; Taiyang and Ruby, who came by Ren's invitation as well, the young Miss Schnee, and the Shadowmancer had all been allowed into the room. The senior priest in attendance had plainly denied her, which he was well within his authority to do, and Raven had been in no place to protest. Billy can't help but wonder if, provided she was of the capacity to, Yang had a say in that arrangement. They could hardly blame her if she did.

"How is Tag?"

Billy blinks with a shake of their head, coming out of a stray thought. "She and Gypsy are trying to keep each other company while I'm over here, but she's on a pretty thin edge. Like you, she just wants to go home, sleep in her own bed for a change."

"She wants to be home with _you_." Pyrrha elaborates knowingly. "She needs you."

"I know. I got _so much_ to make up for...so much time, so much to talk about." Their shrug is long but quiet. "It's going to be a while before anything resembles normal for her again."

"You can do it, I know you can." Pyrrha puts a shaky hand on their shoulder. "And thank you, Billy. For everything. I don't think I could have gotten through this without you."

They chuckle. "You don't give yourself enough credit. I always knew you had it in you, and you made me so damn proud today. I kinda wish you could've seen yourself."

She laughs and shrugs it off, unsure how she feels about the compliment. "I'll admit...I was scared. Turning was so easy. Part of me feels like it shouldn't have been." Though she's grateful that turning back had been easy too.

"I've heard that before. It's a part of you, Pyrrha, always has been, now it's just more evident. Now, you'll still have to change every month, but you can choose when instead of waiting on the moon."

"Strangely enough...that sounds kind of nice." she smiles a little. Her attention is grabbed by bodies moving around her, healers that owned the hands that had been tending her burns. She thanks them, unsure if they heard. Pyrrha shrugs. "I think...I think it's time for bed now."

"I agree." They nod and stand up. "You okay to be on your feet, or do you want some help?"

"I can take her."

Both of them look up and over to spot Ren standing there, smiling with his hands behind his back, dressed in what Pyrrha can only assume passes for his royal attire. The silk is so vibrant she almost can't focus on his face.

"I don't mind, your highness."

"Not at all, I want to." He smiles. "Besides, I think someone would approve of your presence elsewhere." Because he's been feeling Tag's anxiety long enough to know. "Will you be staying the night?"

"As much as I appreciate the invitation, not to insult you, but I want to get Tag home."

"Of course, no offense taken. Should either of you need anything before departing, please ask. It's the least I can do."

"Many thanks, highness." Billy dips their chin in respect and steps away, back to where they know they're needed.

Pyrrha looks at him, her smile earnest but sleepily lopsided. "Hello again."

"Hello. Come on." and he extends his hand for her to take. "Your room's ready."

Ren guides her out of the large common area sort of room and into a long, spacious hallway. The walls are lined with ornate pillars covered top to bottom in intricate carvings and plates in gold and glimmering stones. Most of the palace is like this, decadent to the point of excess, but it's ancient and, in a way, earned it. For the most part the two just walk together in a comfortable quiet. He keeps a supportive hand in hers, the other at her waist to keep her stable if she needs it. She leans on him a little, grateful that he's there and soaking in the natural comfort of his presence.

"The girls are still fast asleep, in case you were wondering." he says softly.

"Good. Thank you for looking after them."

"My pleasure."

"They love you, you know."

"And I love them. Babies are fascinating."

Pyrrha laughs lightly. "Watch, I bet their first words are going to be 'Uncle Ren'."

His sable brows lift, his features stretching. "Would that upset you?"

"Of course not."

There's another strain of quiet as they leave the large hallway for a smaller one, though no less splendorous.

"I'm glad you and Jaune made it back."

"Me too." she exhales. "Do you know how he's doing?"

"To a point. Though he and the Cornerstone are, more or less, two halves of the same whole, using it was a great strain on him. Maybe if he had any training in magic it would be different, but,"

"Is he going to be okay?" though she hates to interrupt.

"I believe so. Naturally, you're both welcome to stay as long as you like. Until you both feel well enough."

"Thank you, Ren, you're the best."

The door they stop in front of is wooden, dark and heavy looking, with an incredible carving of peacock emblazoned across the majority of its height. Ren just pushes on the door and it yields, opening into an incredibly spacious room. More like a full apartment, really. The perpetual light of twilight comes through the stained glass windows, casting gentle rainbows across the marble floor. The bed is huge, inviting.

"There's fresh clothes for you, and a bath has already been drawn. It's through there," Ren tips his head, gesturing towards shimmering satin curtain that separates one wing of the room from the other. "Food should arrive shortly."

"You can't keep spoiling me like this." not that she doesn't like it.

"It's not spoiling if you deserve it." he assures her, smiling. "I'll try to have Jaune brought here once the healers have finished. I'll send someone for you otherwise, provided you're still awake by then."

"I don't know, chances are slim with a bed that nice."

"Then, by all means, make yourself at home." he bends to her, still smiling, and sees himself out.

It takes a moment to really accept and adjust to the fact that she's alone. Though Ren is hardly a stranger, this is still a strange place, and that anxiety has always gotten to Pyrrha in a tangible way. But, once it passes, she settles in just fine.

She almost trips on her own feet trying to get out of what's left of the sweatpants she was wearing on her way to the bath, even giggling at herself for being so clumsy. It's forgivable, she decides, she's exhausted. The bathroom is enormous by her own standards, as big as her own living room. She finds herself fawning over the tub that's incorporated into the floor, gaze lingering on the tendrils of steam drifting up from the still surface of the water. Pyrrha quickly but precariously ties up her hair into a messy bun as she takes to the small set of steps that lead down into the water. Oh, sweet gods above, does that feel _amazing_. Perfect temperature.

Pyrrha takes her time cleaning up, but spends most of her time simply enjoying it, arms out across the edge of the tub to keep her from slipping in as she dozes in and out. Absentmindedly she'll check her teeth with her tongue, an unconscious comfort to find her fangs are smaller now. Still too big, but not as big as they were. Her claws too. She finally emerges from the water when she starts feeling pruny, momentarily worried when her balance is hard to find. The wolfsbane must be taking its hold now, or at least she's starting to feel it. Best get to bed.

The towel she wraps herself in is wonderfully soft and holds a gentle warmth somehow, but there's still a bit of chill in her skin when she steps back into the main area of the room. Her chin tips up and she sniffs the air the moment her still keen nose catches wind of food, her attention narrowing on the dishes on a small table at the foot of the bed. There are small saucers and chopsticks that she's quick to grab up, then she picks a dish at random and lifts the lid. At now that she's smelled it, realized just how empty her gut feels, she doesn't even care what it is. She piles a healthy portion on her plate and digs in.

Pyrrha won't eat every last scrap, but feels like she could have if her fatigue wasn't catching up so fast. She feels fat, happy, and ready for bed at last. Just before she drops the towel from around her, the door of the room swings open. She recognizes the healers from earlier, and she certainly recognizes her husband being walked in between them. She'll watch them put him carefully to bed, resisting an Alpha's urge to hover and micromanage, and give them a quick nod when they turn to leave.

Once she's comfortable in the fact that they are finally alone, Pyrrha finishes whatever is left on her saucer in three big mouthfuls before setting it back on the little table. Then she unceremoniously drops the towel, ignoring the clothes in the neat stack by the bed to climb up. The bed and the linens are so soft, it feels like they melt under her weight and try to swallow her up, making her crawl to Jaune's side feel like an awesome battle against impending sleep. A battle that's even more grueling as she slips under the covers. It will be a true miracle if she ever has the strength to get out of it.

Pyrrha is careful to move slowly, which is a serious effort; she wants - _needs_ \- to touch him so badly. Her skin aches for him even now, when they're the closest they've been in days -had it only been a few days? He's wrapped up in a silk robe beneath the blankets, and she dares to slip a hand inside to play across his chest as she settles up to him. He reacts, lethargic, but still seems to remain asleep as he unconsciously turns his head towards her. Her other arm slides under the pillow, his neck, and bends over his shoulder. Her lips press into his hair and she reflexively takes in his scent. His skin feels so soft, so comforting against hers.

Oh sweet gods, it feels like home. Sleep comes faster than a thought, she doesn't even feel it happen. She's much too focused on him, on having him back and feeling the reassuring pulse of his heart beneath her hand. There's no way to know how long she sleeps, only that the slumber is impossibly deep. The kind of sleep that wipes your mind and nothing feels real when you finally wake up.

But everything is tangible and present when she opens her eyes again, a soft hand against her cheek enough to rouse her from sleep. It takes a moment for the haziness to clear, and she's smiling on reflex because even with blurred vision she knows it's Jaune's hand. He's sitting up, his other hand keeping hers pressed against his chest. That smile of hers drops when she comprehends the look on his face, wide eyed and anxious.

"Jaune,"

"You're alive," his voice is breathy, threatening to break. "She said you...I thought it was a dream." His eyes dart from her face to her body, lingering on the scar between her breasts, and then back up again. He shudders with a sob and pulls her up into a crushing embrace.

Pyrrha doesn't hesitate to tuck into him, her face in the crook of her neck and her arms around him in equal temerity.

"I missed you. Gods I missed you," he's frantically kissing her temple, one after the other after the other, "I love you so much. _I love you, I love you, I love you_ ,"

Before she can say anything, his hands cup her face and he's kissing her hard and desperate. She accepts it easily, her blood heating to the taste of him. She kisses back, or tries at least -he's being very insistent- slips her tongue easily into his mouth and shivers at his little whimper. Jaune falls back onto the bed, pulling Pyrrha with him. They're thinking, wanting, and needing the same thing. Skin to skin, too close to breathe, blurring the lines between them and getting back in each other's blood. Pyrrha's in his lap and Jaune holds her to his chest, keeping their lips close enough to kiss whenever they don't need air. The idea of time and place slips away, the whole cosmos is just made up of them and their love.

Pyrrha bites him in the end, not gums deep, but enough to break skin and shed blood down his chest that she's quick to catch. There's a comforting finality to it, everything is as it needs to be in some way. _My mate._

They kiss and whisper and laugh together, enjoying the warmth and their joint solitude. Pyrrha doesn't catch him up on everything that happened since they were separated and he doesn't press, they don't want to ruin the mood. Still, she can't help but let her mind linger on it all. So much is different now. The normal life she always wanted...well, it just wasn't possible now. In a way it never was, but the illusion had been nice while it lasted. She knows they can't go back to the way it was, blissfully ignoring the supernatural elements of their life, what they kept on the fringes. Pyrrha needed to protect him, to keep this from happening again. She needed to protect her pack.

But that could wait. All that was outside these walls and out of this bed, which is where she means for the both of them to stay for now.

 _(II)_

 _Some time later..._

She usually isn't up this early, but sleeping isn't what it used to be. It has it's perks, to be honest. Yang can't remember the last time she was up early enough to see the sunrise in Vale, and from one of the balconies of the Schnee family manor, it stood to be quite the spectacle.

Yang is alone on the balcony at the moment, seated in one of two cushioned chaise lounges around a table, waiting for her company to arrive. Weiss liked the idea of watching the sunrise together and having breakfast. She had been quietly loving having Yang around for the last few weeks, Yang could tell. Then again, it wasn't like Weiss tried to hide it. Yang is just glad she never asked why she wanted to stay, she doesn't know if she's ready for that conversation.

Yang feels a shift in the atmosphere, a little static buzz, and smiles as she pulls her legs up and twists around. "I was starting to worry about you, prin-," that easy smiles snaps out of existence when she comprehends who has joined her on the balcony. It wasn't Weiss. "Are you even allowed up here? I _know_ the Powers didn't send you."

Raven doesn't react to Yang's obvious displeasure at her presence. "No, they didn't."

"Then what do you want?"

"Just to talk."

Yang shrugs, brow falling low over her eyes. "I don't have anything to tell you, I haven't remembered anything else."

"I didn't mean that."

One golden brow peaks.

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

Yang chuffs and shakes her head, turning back to face the skyline again. Her remaining hand goes behind her head.

Raven starts walking, unconsciously trying to keep her footsteps quiet for a reason she isn't aware of. She goes to the balcony railing, turning her back to it and leaning against it, her arms crossing as she faces her daughter. "Tai's worried about you."

"He knows where I am, he can come and talk to me if he wants to."

"He doesn't think you want to see him."

She won't say as much, but she doesn't much feel like seeing hardly anyone. Blake and Weiss are different, they don't look at her the way she thinks her father and sister would. Tai and Ruby were just too close, too caring for her to stand right now. Finally she says "Then he should tell me."

"You shouldn't shut them out."

"What do you care?" her tone isn't rough with bitterness or resentment, more so reluctance. She doesn't want to have this conversation either. "Really? This is the most attention you've shown me in a _while_ , Raven." she cuts the littlest, petty smirk. "Maybe I should have let myself get kidnapped sooner."

"Yang,"

"Is that really what you're here for? You're feeling guilty about it? Pissed that Summer did your job for you again? Weiss told me about the Reaper."

Raven feels like she's been caught, dead to rights. Not so much that last the thing as the first thing.

The quiet between them stretches longer and longer, the impending dawn turning the sky orange.

Yang eventually shrugs. "I don't hold anything against you. I know you've got rules and shit, it's how it's always been."

Raven's brow knits tightly. "I could have acted sooner."

"Then why didn't you?" she waits, feeling a knot of meanness forming in her chest. "Because you didn't think I was in any danger, right? Qrow told me about dad coming to you when Weiss couldn't summon me." Something in her loves seeing the shame on Raven's face. "But what could you have done? Like I said, you've got rules to follow. We all do."

"That's not an excuse."

"But it's your reason." She holds Raven with a heated gaze, exhaling when the Huntmaster breaks eye contact. "You want to know the truth? I really don't hold anything against you. You didn't let me down."

Raven looks at her, strangely curious and...hopeful?

"I would have had to have expectations that you would come for me to begin with. It's nothing personal."

"Are you sure?" Raven smirks in spite of herself. "I find that hard to believe."

"I don't care." Yang counters flatly. "Doesn't change anything. Don't look so offended." now she sneers, fangs visible in a sort of disgust. "How were you expecting this to go? You think I'd open up to you? Cry in front of you? Believe you actually gave a damn because you actually _chose_ to see me for the first time in...fuck, I don't even know." she pushes her hand roughly through her hair, shaking her head.

All the while, Raven just listens, accepting it. What else could she do?

"Look, I'll be fine in my own time. And if you want my forgiveness or whatever, you've got it. For what it's worth." Now Yang can't look at her, absently scratches a little itch near her stump. "Whatever you need to hear so you'll go."

"I know I've done...nothing right by you. But do you really hate me so much?"

"That's just it; I don't hate you at all. I don't have any feelings about you, and all things considered, I'd prefer it stay that way. If the only thing that gets you to come and see me is your own insecurity or whatever the hell this was supposed to be, than I'd rather you just stay away. Nothing changes and we're both happy."

"...I understand." Resignation is plain and painful on her face. She lingers only a moment longer, nodding mostly for her own sake, and then hops up onto the railing. "You should talk to your father."

"That's not up to you."

Another nod, no last look, Raven jumps, a flux of energy cracking through the air as a portal comes and goes. Yang waits, then releases the tense chestful of air she had been clinging to.

"Yang? Everything okay?"

She blinks, tucking the last few minutes to the back of her mind and making herself relax. "There you are, princess."

"I heard voices,"

"Just thinking out loud, that's all." Yang will watch Weiss come out of the bedroom, still in a housecoat and carrying a tray with what smells like coffee and a saucer of danishes.

"What were you thinking about?" she asks, setting the tray down on the table between them.

"About how wonderful my girlfriend is and how she has the best ideas for breakfast." Yang winks and reaches for a pastry, taking a bite big enough to swallow half of it.

Weiss smiles back, able to fix her coffee the way she likes it without looking. She eventually settles, propped on the chaise so she's facing Yang. "How did you sleep?"

"Okay, I guess. No worse than usual, so that's something. Had a dream I was having a heart attack, but then I woke up to find Tanta laying on my chest." She loves hearing Weiss laugh.

"She _does_ like you." Weiss nods.

"It's because of my body heat. All you Schnees love it; it's the only way I can get Winter to hug me."

"Come on, that's not it. She's just not...the hugging type."

"I'm only kidding." Yang buzzes her lips before swallowing the last of the danish and reaching for another. "This really is great, Weiss."

"I'm glad." she's blushing, but it's brief. "I'm sure it'll be even better when Blake gets here tomorrow."

Yang doesn't immediately respond, taking another bite and navigating her way around fixing her coffee with one hand. "What makes you say that?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing, just that you're always happier when she's around."

"True." she nods. "Do you think I'm less happy that it's just us?"

"Of course not." Weiss stares into her cup.

"C'mon, what's eating you?" she asks softly. "And don't say nothing, because I'll know if you're fibbing."

"It really is nothing, Yang, I promise. I'm just thinking too, that's all."

Yang searches the energy around her, looking for a kink or a tell in the light of her soul but finding none. She's telling the truth. "So what are _you_ thinking?"

"Just...I've had a lot on my mind lately, weighing things. Trying to decide what to do...if it's what I want."

"Oh? And what do you want, princess?" though she exaggerates her interest with a waggle of her brows and a knowing purr in her voice, Weiss knows she's sincere.

"Let's finish our breakfast first."

"Shit, make a girl wait." Yang chuckles, her offense superficial. "Alright, have it your way."

"I usually do." she smirks.

They continue their back and forth, pausing only long enough to see the sun cut over the tops of skyscrapers beyond the balcony. Felt like a brand new day in more ways than one. Weiss stands up and stretches, then gathers their soiled dishes onto the tray, meaning to deal with them later. She'll walk around to the other side of Yang's chaise, offering her hand. "Come with me?"

"Sure." there's the mildest hesitation, a weird new reflex when her only remaining hand is concerned, but takes Weiss' offering and lets Weiss help her to her feet. They retreat into the bedroom, leaving the doors open because the air is still cool and comfortable.

Weiss walks her to the bed and sits her down and then takes a spot right next to her. She crosses her legs since her feet don't reach the floor like Yang's.

"So you gonna tell me what you want now? Because I feel that it's something I can give you."

"You're not wrong." Weiss chuckles, her cheek turning pink. She slips her hand over Yang's, her thumb drawing circles. "You know I love you, right?"

"Of course I do." Yang smiles, but her brows knit, a sign of concern.

"And you love me?"

"I'm crazy about you." that worry only deepens. "What's this about? Am I doing something wrong?"

"No, no, not at all. I just love hearing you say it." because she feels she needs to be brave and it helps. "But I...would you make me yours?"

Surprise stretches Yang's features, her irises the softest lavender as she blinks back at her. "Like... _mine_ , mine?" she feels her heart fluttering when Weiss nods, smiling back at her. "But...I mean, not that I don't want to, it's just...we haven't even..." her eyes flit to the bed and back again.

"I know. And we can, if you want to. I'm ready."

Now she can feel her cheeks getting hot. "I just, you know, thought you'd want to know if I was a good partner -you know, like _that_ \- before asking that from me."

"Sex isn't everything," Weiss dismisses softly.

"But it's a _lot_. To me it is, anyway. I want to be sure you're happy with me, you know? Happy wife, happy life, right?"

"True enough, I suppose. Still," now she takes Yang's hand in both of hers, holds it securely. "If you'll have me."

Yang looks away, vulnerability flickering across her face. "Even with this?" She inches her shoulder, gesturing with her stump.

"Yes. Because you're still you."

"In spite of everything." Yang chuffs. "In any case," she sighs after a moment. "You know this is for keeps, right? Good as gold forever? Dragons are bound by their word."

"I know, so are Witches. And I want to be bound by yours."

Yang's mouth hangs open, her heart lurching against her ribs. "You know, not to be, well, _me_ , but that was _hot_."

Weiss laughs, her voice like music. "Does it make you want to say yes?"

"I can't lie, it certainly does. But...I want you to take another day to think it over, just my rule. I did the same for Blake when she asked me, so, you know."

"Okay. In the meantime," Weiss still has this look in her eye, a sweet beckoning. "You want to try influencing my decision?"

" _Wow_ ," her whole face is red now and she shakes her head. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I think I like it. Gimme a kiss, princess."

 _(III)_

After his remains were recovered, the High Minister's body and head were laid in stasis in Agharta, protected round the clock. Over time his head and his body steadily stitched themselves together per the magic surrounding his immortality. Little by little, until he was whole and opened his eyes. For a long moment he simply lies there, hands folded over his stomach as he tries to place himself.

"You back with us, Oz?"

He blinks and turns his head, squinting to try and sharpen the blurred shapes in his vision. "Who is us, exactly?"

"Come on, old man, you know me." Qrow laughs, then straightens from where he's been propped against the wall. "I've got your glasses."

"Ah, wonderful." he sits up, swinging his legs to hang over the edge of the slab he's sitting on. He takes the delicate frame between his fingers and wastes no time in setting them on his face. "Yes, much better." he smiles. "Good to see you, Qrow."

"Likewise."

"How long was it this time?"

"Two years and some change, not that bad."

"Well, I suppose not. What did I miss?"

Qrow laughs again. "A bit, to say the least. Your glasses were stolen, but we've to the thief in custody." he doesn't know what Raven is thinking keeping the Lamia around, and she won't tell him. Not something he particularly approves of, but the Huntmaster is allowed her eccentricities sometimes.

"What on earth would they take them for?"

"What do you think? Because they took the Cornerstone, too."

"Oh dear." His honey colored eyes widen. "But, considering the two of us are still here, having this conversation, is it safe to assume they didn't succeed in whatever they were planning to do?"

"It is, though it was pretty close."

"Who was responsible? Our thief?"

"No, but she was working for her. You remember Cinder Fall?"

Author's Note: It really feels like hot garbage, but it is what it is. Sorry for what feels like tripping at the finish line, but I'm done. It stopped being fun so I needed to call it before it got worse. I hope at least one of you found some enjoyment in it, for what it's worth, and I'm thankful for everyone who stayed and gave me one last shot. Thanks for everything, catch you on the flip side.


End file.
